


Alone No Longer

by BrokenWings0712



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Dean Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Survival, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenWings0712/pseuds/BrokenWings0712
Summary: "It's hard being the last person alive. It's the constant loneliness, yes, but also the feeling that the ghosts have no one else to watch." --prompt via @ASmallFiction on Twitter





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my latest work! This one has been nagging me since before I finished my last series, but I got smart and have written several chapters ahead before posting the first in hopes that I might update regularly instead of leaving you guys hanging. Anyway, I'm looking at posting about once per week, probably Thursdays.
> 
> Enjoy!

The world didn’t end with a bang. There was no nuclear fallout that decimated the land and made it uninhabitable. The governments of the world were involved, but they were trying to stop or at least slow it down some. They failed, of course, or at least I assume they did. The broadcasts cut out after a few months of chaos, and it’s been static on the airwaves ever since, so there’s no way to know for sure. I don’t know if everyone in D.C. died or just closed their doors and shut everything out until they found a solution.

When it started, it was really just a conspiracy theory that no one took seriously. Whenever it crossed our social media pages, we’d just roll our eyes or make a joke and move on. We didn’t think that what we’d seen in countless horror films was coming true, didn’t believe we would dismiss something like that in the first place, but the world is a strange place, and humanity had grown cocky, skeptical, and blind. We had no idea the end was happening right in front of us, or maybe we didn’t want to see it. Maybe we were going through the first stage of grief. Maybe we were in denial.

Usually when these things happen in the movies, it’s in a big city like New York, London, or Tokyo, somewhere the illness would spread quickly and take over a higher percentage of the population in less time, but as far as I could tell the end came from a town in Kansas of all places. The first places to fall were in the center of the country, and everyone fled outwards on the map, but then several infected must have passed the examinations at airports because all of a sudden what the CDC dubbed “red zones” were popping up sporadically all over the place, even overseas. The World Health Organization tried to mass produce a vaccine to at least strengthen people’s immunity, but no matter what they tried, nothing seemed to slow it down. Animal, vegetable, mineral—they had no frigging clue what they were dealing with. Might as well have been throwing darts at a bulletin board for all the solutions they came up with.

When the outbreak first started being taken seriously, people actually trusted the government. Wild, right? Things were somewhat normal for all of two weeks while the military fought back in red zones and did a fair job at containing it, but it didn’t last. Society, as it has been known to do, came crashing down at the first sign that we were losing. Panic swept the nation. Neighbors turned on each other, crime went through the roof, and marshal law prevailed before order of any kind became obsolete. We should have been working together, pooling our resources, but humans are selfish, and our survival instinct is strongest.

I was twenty-two and working nights at a hospital downtown when everything went to shit. It was the first case we’d seen locally, and we didn’t even realize it when the kid was brought in. She was a car accident victim, maybe seventeen at the most, and unconscious when the ambulance arrived in the Emergency Department. I remember blood being everywhere and working like crazy to get her stabilized as the doctor flung curses around the room at everyone within shouting distance. He couldn’t help it, and we didn’t blame him. High stress cases bring out the worst in medical workers, add in the fact that it was basically a child on the table and we were all ready to scream. 

She was so, so pale, her bloodstained hair and a smattering of freckles contrasting sharply against the bone white skin. I kept praying for a miracle, and when we finally shocked her heart back into rhythm I thought God had answered me. She opened her eyes and lunged at the nearest nurse, and I thought maybe it was drugs, but the shrieks and vibrant yellow ring around her irises when we locked eyes told me we were screwed.

Grabbing those nearest me, I started screaming, “Gold! Gold!” 

Apparently yellow marigolds guide the dead back to various feasts in Day of the Dead lore, so when news spread about the telltale yellow ring in infected, someone in the southwest gave the virus that nickname, and it stuck, but “marigold” was too much to scream in a hospital, so we shortened it. Everyone flew into fight mode when they heard it, and it was a race to subdue the infected girl before she could cut anyone and spread the illness. We weren’t going to lose, not in our hospital, and I for one would be damned if I died at the hands of this thing. It took three people to get her restrained back on the table, and another two to hold her still enough for the doctor to inject her with a cocktail of drugs that would sedate her almost immediately and kill her within a few minutes. 

We waited silently as her breaths came in shorter, more shallow gasps, and then her chest stopped moving all together. A few of us exchanged terrified glances before Doctor G. cleared his throat and asked for a stethoscope. Someone passed it to him, and he stepped forward to place the bell to her chest and listen. He stayed frozen above her for more than a minute, icy blue eyes never leaving the face of his watch, and slowly, finally, straightened.

“Time of—” His first attempt at speaking came out strained and unsteady, something we weren’t used to hearing from the seasoned man, before he paused and tried again. “Time of death: 2:07 a.m.”

“Is that it, then?” Cheryl, the CRNA, asked. Her dark eyes were wide, her charcoal liner smudged just beneath the left one, and her voice shook.

Doctor G. sighed and wiped a hand across his forehead. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s gone.”

The room let out a collective exhale, but the relief was short-lived. 

In a last fit of…what? Fight? Strength? Survival? The girl shot straight up off the table and locked her teeth around Doctor G.’s throat. Bright arterial blood sprayed around the room while he gurgled around each breath, and I’m not ashamed to say I screamed like one of those damsels straight out of a black and white film, but as soon as it started, the girl dropped back onto the table, her body limp save for the twitching of her fingers and vise-like grip of her jaw. Doctor G. was slumped on top of her, his light blue scrubs quickly becoming soaked with a combination of their blood, but then his right leg started shaking, and I pulled on the sleeves of those beside me, dragging them towards the door. That girl was just a slip of a thing, but Doctor G. was six feet tall and frequented the gym in his neighborhood. We wouldn’t stand a chance against him, not if he was infected, too. Sure enough, his feet slowly found traction beneath him, and the once gentile soul rose up and turned to stare at us with yellow ringed eyes.

I spent the next several hours running, and then hiding in a locked broom closet until the authorities who’d cleared the building found me. Only a handful of people made it out of the hospital that night. I counted myself lucky to be among the survivors. Even through the endless interrogations and examinations, I held on to the fact that I made it. I was alive. I, Diana Clark, won.

For the longest time I held onto the hope that had pushed me into nursing in the first place. I latched onto people, forming a fairly large group that could have done great things together. We had people from a wide array of backgrounds who specialized in everything from mechanics to agriculture to healthcare and social services. We had a chance at saving the future, I was sure of it, and began putting down roots in a semi-permanent camp. We dug a well for fresh drinking water, planted large squares of land and implemented an irrigation system, gathered the necessary supplies for canning foods, and even started selective cutting in a forest nearby to begin building housing. I was starting to be happy again. I’d found a group of people who were like family, and I’d do anything to protect them.  
Then a group of marauders raided. 

They ambushed us in the early morning, creeping into our camp when the first grey light started to intermingle with the fog. They took the few kids among us along with all the weapons and supplies they could carry and destroyed everything else. Fires burned, and black smoke covered the sky while we tried to fight back, but we were hopelessly outgunned by people with far more fighting experience than we had, and they overpowered us quickly. As I was forced onto my knees in line with the remainder of my group and forced to watch the children I loved get loaded into trucks, I didn’t think it could get any worse, until it did.

Again, I was lucky, I guess. I was left for dead after some men had their way with me. I eventually passed out from the beating and woke up alone in the dark with no idea how much time had gone by. I was naked save for the mixture of dirt and blood caked over my body, and my breathing was ragged, but I was alive. I was able to drag myself more than crawl over to a collapsed tent, and I grabbed one of the poles and pulled myself inside before zipping up the closure behind me. I clung to life for three days before being able to move again.

I didn’t see another living person after that. It was just me and the infected, but as time wore on, even they became less of a threat. I don’t know if it was because they got slower or I got better at fighting them, but I didn’t question it. I learned over time not to question anything even remotely good when it happened. I just went with it and promised to do some good the next chance I got.

That was ten years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied, but I couldn't resist uploading another chapter so soon. Plus, the first one was a bit short, so I figured ya'll deserved a little something extra.
> 
> Enjoy!

Now…

It was just an old cabin I had come across while on the run from a herd of infected a year or so after the marauders attacked. I ducked inside and fastened the door behind me before waiting for the group to pass. I was far enough ahead of them when I hid that they never suspected the ramshackle building for shelter. It was falling apart. The roof sagged in places, and sunlight shone through in others. The floorboards looked all but rotten, and I shuddered at the abundance of rat droppings piled around—the old couch would be the first bit to go when I began cleaning it out—but the windows were remarkably intact, and the door strong, so I stayed. There was a barn in similar condition about twenty yards from the front door that I fixed up to house a horse and milking cow, and I scavenged some wire to enclose the attached lean to for chickens.

The house took a bit more work. After cleaning out and scrubbing the inside, I laid new flooring and fixed the roof with tin stolen from a house a mile away. I reinforced the doors and windows, opting for wooden shutters on the inside I could secure after dark each night to keep from drawing attention to myself, and made several weapons caches throughout the house. The main room already had a wood heater that doubled as a stove, but I still worried about the smoke that first winter and only used it when absolutely necessary. Of course, when I realized the snow never really melted off in the winter, I began using it with more frequency. The house I’d gotten roofing materials from also provided some semi-clean furniture that I retrieved over the course of several days—moving that stuff isn’t an easy feat alone, but I made it work. Pots, pans, clothing, jars, tools, and other little things came from the surrounding area. After I got the house finished, I scavenged for over a week to find all the essentials and even a few little luxuries that turned my little cabin in the woods into a home. It wasn’t much, but in a world that’d fallen off the high dive, it was enough.

There was always something to do around my little claim. I started each day with a small breakfast before heading out to check the fence around my property. I’d set up the perimeter a few hundred yards away from my house. It wasn’t so far away that I couldn’t keep an eye on things, but it was at a distance that kept my animals from drawing infected. They usually wandered around the fence, but every once in a while one would get tangled in the barbed wire strung up a foot in front of the stone wall, and I had to go put it down. After making the needed repairs, I returned to the barn to feed my horse (who I’d dubbed Big John) and cow (Bessie, obviously). Bessie got milked as she ate, and when I was done, she and John were let out to graze a while. Then it was on to the chickens. They also got fed, and I gathered the eggs before returning to the cabin to store them and scald the milk.

After lunch I went to the garden. I’d planted several vegetables and a few small fruits that reproduced quickly. Weeding and adjusting the irrigation took a lot of time, and I picked ripe foods as I went through each section. They usually got canned for winter or turned into jellies, but some I kept out to eat right away. As dusk settled, I returned John and Bessie to the barn for supper and another milking, made sure the chickens had plenty of water, and headed inside. 

I reveled in my routine. It was comfortable, safe, and I needed it to stay sane. Very rarely did I need to venture out anymore to scavenge. I had everything I needed right around me. Every other day I went to the creek to wash my clothes, and once a week I gathered wood for the winter. Everything was planned out, organized, and as close to normal as I was going to get. It wasn’t perfect, but I was okay. 

And then something unusual happened.

I woke earlier than normal to the sound of the animals having a total conniption fit in the barn. I didn’t bother dressing, just threw on a jacket and pulled on my boots before grabbing a machete and running outside. It was just starting to get light, so I took a few extra seconds to scout the barn before entering. The chickens were going nuts, no doubt a result of Bessie’s incessant mooing and Big John’s repeated stamping, so I headed into the stable to see if I could calm them. 

Nothing immediately jumped out at me, so I lowered my weapon and stepped up to my horse. “Easy, big guy,” I murmured while running my hand over John’s side. “What’s gotten into you, huh? Something outside?” He jerked his head up when I removed my hand, and I watched as his ears twitched in the direction of the back wall. I patted him again and backed out the way I’d come. Bessie had calmed down, but there wasn’t anything I could do about the chickens. They’d just have to quiet down in their own time.

Ten years in this apocalyptic wasteland with no one to rely on but myself had taught me more than a few things about survival, stealth being at the top of that list. Hiding had saved my life on more than one occasion when I found myself unable to fight. I once again held my machete at the ready as I circled the barn with near silent footsteps, listening and analyzing every sound for something that was out of the ordinary. I had just come around to where I could see the haze covered garden, and that was when I heard it. It wasn’t much, just a quiet grunt at first, but then a heavy thud followed by a litany of curses followed it, and I was off. 

I raced over the slick grass towards the sounds and spotted a tangle of limbs fly through the air over the back fence. I pushed myself harder and reached the source of the commotion in no time. Two of the infected were slung across the wire and snapping their jaws inches away from a man’s face, and three more were headed in our direction. The guy was fighting back as much as he could, but I noticed the only weapon he had was a rock the size of my fist, and he was using it to bash in one of his attackers’ skull.

I jumped the wall and went to work, slicing cleanly through the neck of the one closest to the man and immediately turning on the one behind it. It let out a pitiful shriek and threw itself forward again, impaling its chest on my blade. I gritted my teeth and ripped upwards through rotting flesh and bone. It fell, but the other three were almost on us. Time to make a decision.

I spun towards the man. “Can you walk?”

He gripped the rock tighter, his bicep tensing with the movement. Where was his jacket? The nights were too cold not to wear some kind of sleeves, and it wouldn’t warm up until closer to lunch. “Doubt it,” he grunted while gesturing towards his foot. It was tangled in the wire, barbs biting into the fabric of his jeans. “Why do you think I’m in this position in the first place?”

“F.Y.I., it’s not a good idea to sass the woman that just saved your life,” I snapped. I blew out a harsh breath and gave him the once over. “Are you gonna try to kill me?” 

Hard eyes narrowed in the dim light. “Not unless you make a move first.”

Alright then. “Wait here,” I instructed before stepping over the fence.

I moved away from the wire, turning the infected in a different direction, and whistled lowly. It was enough to draw their attention away from my fence and the stranger trapped there. I took them on one at a time, slicing and stabbing and dancing around them. In no time at all they were lying in pieces around me, and I stood panting above them. After more than ten years since the outbreak, you’d think the buggers would have slowed down a bit, but nope. They were just as quick as the day they had been infected, if a bit less, uh, fresh.

Despite the infected being completely dead, a pair of eyes still watched me, so I strode back to where the man was seated. He’d yet to release the rock—understandable, I guess, for the position he was in—and eyed me warily. I squatted down on the other side of the wire and sighed as I surveyed the damage done to my fence. It was more than I’d initially thought, and I wasn’t sure I had enough supplies in the barn to fix it. 

“What’s your name?” 

The gruff sound caught me off guard. It’d been a while since I’d heard another voice that wasn’t filled with a death shriek, and muscle memory is a hell of a thing. I loosened my grip on the machete and blinked at him. “What’s yours?”

He rolled his eyes—it was bright enough now that I could tell they were lighter, maybe hazel or green, but not light enough to be blue—and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Are you really not gonna tell me your name?”

“Depends on whether or not you tell me yours,” I countered easily. No way was I dropping my guard just because he looked trapped. For all I knew he could have loosened the wire without my help while I was putting down those infected.

He flashed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Clarice it is, then.”

“Does that make you Hannibal?”

He scrunched his nose. “Believe me, human flesh doesn’t smell all that great while it cooks. S’not for me.”

“Good to know.” I watched him for a few moments, sizing him up, before I spoke again. “Diana.”

“Got a last name?”

I fought against the upward tug at the corner of my mouth, but it was a losing battle, so I surrendered and held out a hand. “Clark.”

“Dean Winchester,” he informed me while gripping my hand. His was rough, tanned, and almost completely enveloped mine. “Care to help a guy out, Diana?”

“Only if you promise to be good.” I stared pointedly at the rock in his other hand until he finally dropped it. I put my machete down on the grass slowly and examined his ankle. “What happened to you?”

“I was taking care of something when a group jumped me. I was able to kill off most of them, but then I lost my weapon, and they were between me and my camp, so I took off. Those two caught up to me first, and I was going hand to hand with them when I tripped over the wire.”

I paused and looked up at him, my eyes assessing him for injuries. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been banged up enough times to recognize a concussion. Trust me, I’m fine.”

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart,’” I said sternly. Dean held up his hands in a placating manner, and I went back to pulling his ankle free, though I admit it was a little less gentle than before. “Sorry,” I muttered after Dean hissed. I removed the last bit of wire from his jeans and placed it to the side before rolling up his pants leg. 

“Well, Doc? Am I gonna make it?”

I used the sleeve of my jacket to swipe at the excess blood on his skin and get a better look. “These cuts are pretty deep. We need to get them clean and wrapped before they get infected.” Once again, I had to ask. “Think you can walk?”

Dean pulled his right leg up and used the rock wall behind him to push himself up before attempting to put weight on his injured foot. He was tentative at first, no doubt testing his tolerance, and then a little braver…which turned out to be the wrong move. His leg buckled, and I gripped his arm to keep him from falling while he bit back a groan. “Thanks,” he gasped before looking down at me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked guilty, apologetic almost, but I didn’t know why.

“C’mon. Let’s get you back to the house.”

“Why?” His voice dripped with skepticism, and I rolled my eyes.

“Because I only get meat from chickens and game of the non-human variety. Plus, let’s just say it’s been a while since I had some good old-fashioned conversation. Makes a girl feel almost normal again.” Dean huffed a laugh and shook his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied. “You just remind me of someone.”

I slipped his arm over my shoulders and gripped his wrist. “Well we can reminisce later. Right now, we need to get you fixed up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday! As promised, here's another chapter for you guys. 
> 
> Enjoy!

To my surprise, Dean went both willingly and silently. We made it to the barn, but he didn’t ask questions, just stared, taking everything in. I sat him down on an overturned bucket just inside the hall and went about my regular routine feeding Bessie and Big John and then milking Bessie. After I turned them out and fed the chickens, I felt him watching me. It was unnerving, but I kept reminding myself that had I found myself in his position, I likely would’ve been doing the same thing.

“So,” I started as I carried the milk and eggs towards him, “we can do this one of two ways. Either I go ahead and take these to the house while you stay here, or we can get you to the house, and then I’ll come back for my groceries.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “You really want a stranger in your house alone?”

“Are you thinking about killing me yet?” He smiled some and shook his head. “Then I don’t have anything to worry about, do I? Last I checked, you were the lame one, not me, and I also hold all the weapons here, so the way I figure it, you wouldn’t gain anything by getting your butt kicked by a chick, therefore, I have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

I picked up my haul and nodded. “Yep. Now be a good boy and sit tight ‘til I get back.” I heard him chuckle a “Yes, ma’am,” behind me but ignored it and hurried to the house. 

I’m not sure what I expected to see when I stepped onto the porch, but it sure wasn’t Dean stretched out, arms behind his head, and leaning against the barn wall. His eyes were closed, his face turned towards the sun, and I swear it looked like he was sleeping. He cracked open his eyes as I approached and once again took to watching my every move. He didn’t say anything as we went to the house, but he did whistle when I deposited him on the couch.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks,” I said while opening the shutters and letting some light into the room. “Came across it by accident a few years ago.” 

Dean furrowed his brow. “What made you stay?”

I pulled up a stool in front of him and shrugged. “The opportunity to have something semi-permanent. It was better than running my whole life. I figured if I could fix it up a bit, maybe I could actually settle down.” He hummed and gingerly placed his foot on my thigh when I gestured to his leg. I rolled up his jeans and gasped. “Holy shit, Dean!”

Green eyes snapped to mine. “What is it?” 

I ignored him in favor of undoing his boot laces and removing it and his sock as quickly as possible. I began probing along his ankle. “Feel that?”

Dean jerked, but I held his foot firm in my grip. “The hell are you doing?!”

“Your ankle might be broken, Dean. It’s not just the cuts you have to worry about.”

The man in front of me huffed but craned his head to take a look at the mottled bruising along his skin. “Son of a…bitch!” 

“I’ll clean it first, but then we need to get your foot stabilized so it can heal properly.” I began reaching into my kit, but Dean stopped me with a hand on my arm. I slapped his hand away, still too uncomfortable with his touch to catch the panic rising in my throat, and leveled him with a glare. “Don’t. Touch.”

His jaw ticked, but he did as I asked and placed his hand on his thigh. “What if it’s not broken? Maybe I just sprained it.”

“Pray that’s all it is,” I murmured while soaking a cloth with clean water and a little soap. I paused before going to work and caught his gaze. “This might sting a little.”

I’ll give him one thing, Dean was a trooper. All through cleaning his wounds and wrapping his foot and ankle, the man barely flinched. Maybe it had something to do with him being ready for the pain, but it was impressive. I’d had a run in with the chicken wire on my arm a few years back and had to use that same soap to clean it, and that shit hurt like a mother, so I knew what he was enduring was no picnic. 

When I was cleaning up and packing my kit, I began going over my training in my head and glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You need to stay off that as much as possible,” I instructed. “Keep it—”

“Elevated to reduce swelling,” he finished quietly. “Not my first rodeo, Di.” 

I watched the gears turn in his head for a few moments before taking some pity on him. “You know you won’t be able to travel for a while, right?”

“I’m aware.”

Time to lay down some ground rules, I thought. “You can stay here until you’re back on your feet if you want, but I can’t have you inside the house while I sleep. Sorry, but I’m just not there yet. There’s an extra stall in the barn you can use for now. I’ll clean it out today and get you fixed up in there. I missed breakfast, so we’ll have an early lunch, and supper is right before dark. You mess with anything, you’re out. Steal from me? Gone. And if you try to attack me, you’d better make sure I’m dead because you won’t get far unless you finish the job. Deal?”

Dean pursed his lips and stared me down. “Deal,” he said after a few moments, “but I’m not used to sitting around. What can I do to help you out?”

I glanced towards the kitchen and debated what I was about to do but finally settled on it. Standing, I replaced my first aid kit on the shelf above the sink and pulled out a couple of bowls and stacked them on top of a basket filled with produce and fruit. Then I grabbed a paring knife and headed back to the living room. 

“How are you with a knife?”  
_____________

I frowned down at the unused baskets at my feet. The day’s harvest had been thinner than usual, and I suspected it wouldn’t be long before I’d gather the last of the year’s crops. It looked to be an early winter, and with my unexpected houseguest, I’d have to reevaluate my food stores to make sure I had enough of everything. Otherwise I’d be subjected to another March with nothing to eat but meat and cheese. A shudder ran up my spine as I remembered what that first year had been like. I wasn’t doing that again.

I did my evening chores and hauled everything back to the house. Dean was seated in front of the stove when I walked in, a pot already boiling on top. “What’s that?” I asked while emptying one of the baskets onto the counter by the sink.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I heard you moving the animals and got a head start on supper.” 

He let one of his hands hang between his knees while opening the heater and stoking the fire. I noticed he’d also taken the time to close all the shutters, so the light made strange shadows dance on his face, highlighting the haggard look of his beard and capturing his eyes in a golden glow. After a moment of staring, I averted my eyes and lit an oil lamp for extra light. Then I grabbed a few things and joined him by the stove. I gave the pot a good stir to see what all he’d tossed into the stew before adding some dried venison and a little milk for good measure.

“It thickens the broth so that it sticks to your ribs longer. The meat was supposed to be for a special occasion,” I explained, “but a dinner guest counts as special right?”

“If you say so.”

He kept staring off into the flames, and I found myself again staring at him. What had he seen? Where had he come from? How had it taken this long for someone to cross my path, and why was it him? He rubbed at the back of his neck and raised his eyes to mine.

“What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just, I’m not used to having to make conversation. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Then why say anything?”

I wiped my hands on my pants and took a seat on the couch behind him to avoid his scrutiny, but Dean just turned around and pegged me again with his stare. “Shouldn’t I?” I asked. “Isn’t that what people do when they come together, discuss theories and ideas, question the ways of the universe, and all that jazz?”

“Only if you want to.” Dean pointed between us. “We’re not exactly friends here, and I get it if you’re uncomfortable around me. I don’t blame you. These days the people you cross paths with aren’t boy scouts. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t trust you either. You’ve done an impressive job here by yourself, but since it doesn’t look like I’m gonna be able to get back to my camp anytime soon, we’re gonna have to come to some sort of understanding so that we’re not constantly watching our backs waiting for the other person to strike. I know I’ll sleep better, and I’d be willing to bet you will, too.” He paused as if working through what he was about to say, and then, “What I’m saying is, I’m willing to try if you are.”

“Duly noted,” I breathed. It was the most he’d said since he showed up, and it caught me a bit off guard compared to his usual silence and short answers. There was something about the way he spoke with his whole body. Even his eyes spoke volumes, and I knew he was being sincere. “So,” I tucked my legs underneath me and leaned onto the arm of the couch, “in the spirit of getting to know each other better, how about we start with some questions?”

Dean snorted and turned around to give the stew another stir before answering. “What do you want to know, kid?”

“How old are you?” He threw a glare over his shoulder, and I grinned.

“Forty-two. You?”

“Thirty-three.”

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You were just a kid when everything went down.”

“I resent that,” I said flatly. 

He shook his head and turned back around. “No, you don’t get it. You’re thirty-three now, so that made you, what? Twenty-two when it started?” I nodded. “I remember when my brother was that age. We grew up rough, but he was still so innocent sometimes. He honestly believed there was good in everyone.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. Where was he going with this?

“There is bad shit out there, Di, the kind of stuff you don’t want to know about. Some people don’t have a good bone in their body. Their soul is pitch black, scarred by all the twisted stuff they’ve done.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I hope you never have to cross paths with those monsters. You deserve better than that.”

I dropped my eyes and picked at a loose thread on the old couch, the weight of what he’d said making me uncomfortable, which, okay was weird considering this was my house, my home, and I was the one letting him stay there. No one could make me feel that way, not here, not after everything I’d been through. I fought to regain control of the situation. “So…what’s your favorite color?”

Dean huffed a tired laugh and shook his head. “Seriously?”

“Humor me.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed before flicking his gaze back to me. “Green. Yours?”

“Purple. Favorite food?”

“Are we talking regular or desserts?”

I shrugged. “Whichever you miss the most.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Pie,” he said dreamily. “Definitely pie.”

“Mmm, ice cream. You can’t find anything cold nowadays unless it’s winter, and that’s when you want something good and hot. It’d be nice to have that back.”

“What about snow cream? It’s basically the same thing.” I scrunched my nose, and he laughed. “Okay, maybe not.”

It went on like that for a while. I learned Dean was a car guy, that he’d once had a beloved Impala he’d dubbed “Baby.” He was big into food of all kinds and loved cheap horror flicks. Zeppelin was king as far as music went, a point we both agreed on, and he’d traveled the continental U.S. more times than he could count for work—though he never actually said what it was he did for a living. In return, I told him about the friends I’d made in nursing school and at work, how the full moon absolutely had an effect on people’s minds—another thing we agreed on—and how I always wanted to travel but didn’t get to until after the Marigold Virus took hold, but traveling for survival wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

After the fire had died down and we’d both began to yawn, I got up to retrieve several old quilts and a big flannel from the closet and returned to the couch with a heavy heart. Getting to know Dean had been fun, and it didn’t feel right to throw him out now, especially considering how cold it was. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” I started. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay, Di. I don’t mind taking the barn.” He pushed himself up to stand so that most of his weight was balanced on his good foot. “It’s actually a step up from what I’m used to. I’ll be fine.”

I released a breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, good.” I handed him the shirt. “Put this on while I run the blankets out there, and I’ll be right back to help you.”

“Or I can put this on and then carry those while you help me walk. I’m not completely useless, you know.” He flashed a grin, and I found myself returning the smile.

“Okay.”  
_____________

I lay in bed later that night thinking about everything he’d said, how his voice rang out with warning when he talked about the “monsters.” I knew how bad people could be, or at least I thought I did. I wasn’t naïve, and I was under no illusion that the world was all sunshine and rainbows, but there was something Dean wasn’t saying, something worse he was holding back, and I wondered what it was. What could be worse than the marauders I’d run into, than the darkness that encompassed our world? What was so bad that he felt the need not to warn me against the infected that had taken over the world, but against something he deemed far, far worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

We’d fallen into a routine after that first night. I took care of things outside, and Dean helped with things inside like cutting produce, boiling milk and water, and, at his insistence, prepping meals—apparently the guy had a thing for food, and he was surprisingly adept at cooking, so I had zero complaints. At night we’d settle on the couch with supper and chat about trivial things from our past lives. We rarely ventured into deeper territory, but when we did, one of us was always quick to steer the conversation back to safer topics. Things had been going smoothly until Dean got tired of nursing his injured foot, so I’d devoted to spending the next day inside with him after I got all the necessary chores out of the way. That was how I ended up teaching him to make applesauce, and to say things were getting interesting would be an understatement.

“Okay, so just keep mashing those apples until they’re good and smooth.” I shot him a wink over my shoulder while reaching into a cabinet. “No one likes chunky applesauce.”

Behind me, Dean pouted on the couch. “I still don’t understand why I have to sit here like this.”

“Because,” I said while brushing a loose strand of dark hair out of my eyes, “if you’d just kept your freaking foot up yesterday instead of hobbling out to the barn fifty times it wouldn’t be so swollen.”

“I was being helpful!”

I turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “You were bored.” 

Dean glared at me but kept working. “I can’t help it that I’m not used to sitting around all day. I’ve spent my entire life working, moving—”

“’Doing something!’” Another glare was shot my way, but that time it had less heat, and I broke it by flashing him a grin. “I know, Dean. You’ve said it a hundred times this week. Here.” I walked over and handed him a jar. “You can use this to sweeten the applesauce since we don’t have any sugar.”

He put the bowl aside and turned the jar over in his hand a few times. “Honey?”

“Yep. There’s a hive not too far from here. Took me a few months to work up the courage to try bee charming, but once I did, it was worth it.” I sat down and nudged him with my elbow. “Girl’s gotta get her sweet fix somehow.” 

Dean stayed silent and continued to roll the jar between his palms, green eyes lost in the molten gold below them. A deep furrow formed between his brows, and he dropped the jar to rest on his thighs. Suddenly all the fun we’d been having minutes before rushed out of me like air from a popped balloon.

“Dean?” I asked quietly.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out rough and halfway choked. “And the bees? How did they feel about you stealing from them?”

What was he, a hippy? “I don’t take much, just a couple of jars a year. I transplanted some clover and flowering plants closer to their hive, and they’re actually thriving.” A gentle hum was all I got in response. “Dean,” I probed again. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes while handing me the honey. “Nothing. It’s just, my best friend has this thing about bees. Whenever we settle somewhere for a while he immediately starts digging into the local bee population to see how they’re doing, and then he tries to ‘save’ them or whatever.”

“This friend, does he have a name?”

“Cas.” Dean looked at me, a world-weary smile on his face. “He can be a bit of a hippy, but there’s no one I’d rather have watching my back when things get rough, you know?”

I didn’t. I hadn’t had anyone watching my back in years, but if nothing else I could appreciate the sentiment. Plus, it was the first time he’d given me a specific name when talking about someone. He never even told me what his brother’s was, but I suspected that was a touchier subject because he always referred to him in the past tense, whereas Cas was spoken of like he was still alive and well—or well enough in the current situation.

I nodded anyway. “How long have you known each other?”

“Since before the world went to shit,” Dean answered easily. He huffed and shook his head, hand rubbing absently at his left shoulder. “I got in with what you might call a rough crowd, and the dude pulled me out, got me back to my family. Course, then I couldn’t get rid of him, but he meant well, and we fought a lot of battles together. He knows me better than anybody in the world. Kind of makes it hard not to be friends.”

“I’m glad you have that, Dean.”

He nodded and then glanced at me before turning his whole body in my direction. “I’m sorry you don’t. Have that, I mean. Frankly I’m surprised I’m the first person you’ve come across in so long. I mean, I know the infected pretty much rule the planet now, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t still regular people roaming the earth.”

“Yeah, well, I’m used to it,” I said, looking away at something else, anything else. “I grew up in the foster system, aged out of it, so I’ve been alone basically my whole life.” This time it was me staring at the jar of honey like it held all of life’s answers in an effort to avoid the pity I knew would be written all over Dean’s face. I didn’t need or want it. I was an independent woman. 

“I don’t see how you’ve done it. I would’ve gone crazy a long time ago.”

“Solitude suits me.” I shrugged and, swallowing hard, looked him in the eye. “Like I said, I’m used to it. It’s a good thing, too, because you’ll be going back to your camp as soon as your foot heals up.”

We stayed that way for a moment, him reading my face while I tried to keep it as impassive as possible. I couldn’t show him, couldn’t let him see just how much being alone hurt, how much his presence had started to mean to me, or how large the hole in my life was sure to be when he left. Damn it, I was lonely. A body needs interaction with its own kid, craves it, and I’d been missing out on it for too long. He was right, I shouldn’t have survived this long on my own without going nuts, but I was hellbent on surviving one way or another.

“So how much honey do I put in here?” he asked casually.

And just like that, the weight was lifted from the room. 

I handed him the bowl back and grabbed a small spoon from the coffee table before cracking the lid. “Start out with a small amount and go from there. You’ll have to taste it occasionally to make sure it isn’t too sweet. Don’t need to develop diabetes in an apocalypse. Can you imagine hunting down insulin?”  
_____________

“Strip.”

Dean choked on the tea he’d been drinking when I entered the room. He spluttered a few times before catching his breath. “You want me to do what now?”

I rolled my eyes and gestured at his clothes. “Come on, off with them. You’ve been here nearly a week and a half, and I’ve yet to see you wash anything. Time for a bath while I scrub those undies.”

He chewed on his lower lip before speaking. “So that’s what you’ve been doing with all that water,” he said. “You know, I haven’t seen you take a bath either.”

“I wash up after you’re out of the house at night. I’m not an idiot. Besides, I passed concerned a few days ago, so let’s get on with it, huh?”

“What’ll I wear in the meantime?”

“For Pete’s sake…” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my forehead and groaned. “Dean, you have got to bathe. I don’t know how long you usually go without it, and I don’t want to, but here, at my house, you’re gonna be clean. You can either go willingly, or I can make you.”

He quirked an eyebrow and looked me up and down. “You really think you can do that, Di? I’m not exactly tiny.”

I walked over and placed a hand on either side of his head on the back of the couch and leaned in. “I was a tech for several years before I became an RN,” I told him. “I assure you I have handled wilder men who were much, much bigger than you.” His green eyes sparkled with mirth, and his lips were just forming another retort when I cut him off. “Bath. Now.”

“Yes, Nurse Ratchet,” Dean mocked.

“And don’t you forget it,” I laughed while straightening up. I grabbed the makeshift crutch we’d fashioned from a large tree branch and leaned it on the cushion beside him. “I’ll grab you a couple of towels while you undress.”

A few minutes later, I had a mostly naked Dean Winchester—yes, it was distracting, but I’m a professional, okay?—staring down at the tub in my bathroom. He looked from the tub, to me, and back again before taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “I gotta be honest with you here,” he said. “I’m not sure how to get in without using both feet.”

“It’s okay,” I assured him, my inner nurse kicking in automatically. “If it makes you more comfortable, leave your boxers on until right before you’re ready to sit. Then you can step out of them and lower yourself down. I’m right here to help you, okay? I swear I won’t let you fall.”

Dean met my eyes for a second and swallowed. “Okay.” 

I helped him turn so that his right leg was closest to the tub. “Just hold onto the wall there, and put your weight on me while you step in.” He did as he was told, and together we got him over the ledge. “Good. Soap and washcloths are there, and you’ve got plenty of towels for when you get out. When you’re ready, just pull the plug. We don’t have any running water, but the drain still works, thank goodness. Oh, and I left you some sweats under the towels.” I bit my lip and tried to avoid watching him hook his fingers in the waistband of his boxers. “Just holler if you need anything.”

I turned and heard a splash of water before something hit the wooden floor by my feet with a squelch. “Don’t forget those,” Dean chuckled. 

I scooped the boxers up and left quickly, my face burning with embarrassment. Dumping his clothes into the pot of boiling water on the heater, I got lost in the mundane work of trying to get them clean. There in the safety of my little cabin in the woods, I let my mind wander.

There was no reason for me to react to Dean like that. Sure, he was good looking, all tanned skin and hard muscles that were absolutely covered in freckles, and despite the beard, his face was still just a tad more delicate than anything I’d come across in real life. He was more suited to the pages of an outdoors catalog than the apocalypse, that was for sure, but still, he wasn’t the first naked man I’d ever seen, and there was nothing…romantic between us. There was an intensity when we stared at each other, but I got the feeling Dean could evoke that response in any woman he looked at. The man had probably never even heard the word “no” before. Besides, he’d be gone soon, and I’d be left alone again, but it was so easy to be around him while he was there, like we were old friends catching up. It was best not to say or do anything that would make things unnecessarily awkward. It was just a fleeting attraction, that’s all, nothing more. It couldn’t be.

I sighed and carefully transferred the clothes into the bucket of cooler water on the floor beside me before taking it over to the sink and trying to wring them out. I was just hanging his socks on a piece of twine when I heard the bathroom door open and the telltale sound of his crutch thudding on the floor. “So, you made it out alive, huh?” 

“Yeah. The sweats fit pretty good,” he said. “They must be huge on you.”

“They are, but the drawstring helps, and they’re awesome for layering in the winter.” I expected the couch to creak as he sat down, but when he chose the kitchen chair instead, I turned and— “Shit.”

Dean rubbed his now smooth chin. “Found your straight razor and decided to get rid of the animal on my face. What do you think?”

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing in my head except the sharp angle of his jaw. My hand twitched with the need to feel it, just once, to see if it was as smooth as it looked, but I clenched it into a fist instead. “Good,” I finally said. “No offense, but it suits you far more than the beard.”

He looked down and grinned, the tiny lines fanning out beside his eyes doing nothing to quell my growing attraction to him. I was so freaking screwed. “Thanks. I used to keep it cut close all the time, but then,” Dean waved his hand in the air, “you know.”

“Yeah.” The end of the world had robbed me of little routines I now counted as luxuries as well. I craved the feeling of washing my hair under a good showerhead, laying on a good mattress, hot coffee… 

“So, uh, I know you’ve already done way more than I deserve, but do you think I could ask for one more thing?”

Dean’s voice snapped me out of my reverie. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“Think you could cut my hair?”

I couldn’t help it. There I was thinking he was going to ask me something crazy, and he wanted me to take up a pair of scissors and scalp him. I doubled over as the laughs bubbled out of me, struggling to suck in enough oxygen to keep from passing out. Dean, for his part, stayed locked in a dumbfounded expression, his eyebrows furrowed and head cocked to the side as he watched me try and calm down. 

“I’m s-sorry,” I spluttered, wiping my eyes. “It’s just that that was not what I was expecting.”

“What the hell were you expecting?” he asked. “A strip tease?”

I threw my hands up as I crossed the room. “I don’t know, but a haircut wasn’t it.” I disappeared into my bedroom for a minute before returning with the scissors I used specifically to cut my own hair. Walking up to him, I smiled again and ran my fingers through his damp hair, getting a feel for the length. “How much do you want off?”

He looked up at me through his lashes, but I kept my eyes strictly on his hair…mostly. “As much as you can get from the sides, but I like the top a little longer.”

“Okay.” 

I got to work, taking a few inches off the sides and leaving the top longer like he asked. It didn’t take more than maybe fifteen minutes at the most, but it felt longer. It was tempting to take my time, linger with every touch, but I knew I wasn’t allowed that privilege. He’d given me a job to do, and I did it, and when I was done, I patted him on the shoulder and turned to put my scissors away, but he caught my hand and pulled me back around in front of him.

“Thank you,” Dean told me seriously, never releasing his hold on me, though I don’t think I would have moved if he had. His eyes held me in place as well as any bonds could have. “For everything. I would’ve died out there if you hadn’t found me, or from an infection if you hadn’t cleaned my wounds. I owe my life to you, Di, and I don’t take that lightly.” He glanced down at our hands and ran a thumb over my inner wrist, sending a tingling sensation straight up my arm. “When this is over, when I get better…I want you to come with me. Come back to my camp. Meet Cas. Stay with our group.”

I shook my head. Confused didn’t touch what I was feeling. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re a good person, and you don’t deserve to be locked away from the world like this. There are people out there who could benefit from what you know, and it’s not all bad. There’s—” 

“I’m not locked away!” I snapped. I pulled away and stepped back, ignoring the pained look in his eyes. “I didn’t choose to be alone, Dean, but I made the best of it. I have a home here, a good one. I have animals that depend on me to take care of them and keep them safe. I have a freaking roof over my head and three meals a day because I worked hard. I worked damn hard to get here! I earned all of this. I can’t just give all that up because you’ve decided that I’m good enough to join your caravan or whatever.”

Dean didn’t move, just kept his eyes on me as I ranted, and his tone, when he finally spoke, was perfectly measured. “You can’t stay here alone.”

“No? Well I’ve done a pretty good job on my own so far!”

This time he grabbed his crutch and pushed himself to his feet. “And what happens if you run into trouble, huh? What if you get sick, or hurt, or something shows up that you can’t fight alone, and you don’t have any back up? What then? Are you just gonna roll over and die? Well? Tell me something, Di! Make me understand why you have to stay here.”

I bit my tongue to keep the truth from spilling out. How could I explain it to him so that he’d understand? What even made me consider telling him in the first place? He didn’t know me well enough to have access to that information. We’d just met not long ago and were still practically strangers. He didn’t get to see my broken parts.

“I’m tired,” I said instead. 

Dean scoffed and gave me a look as if to say, “Really? You’re going with that?” 

“I’m going to bed.” I brushed by him on the way to my room seconds before I slammed the door behind me. Everything was silent for a minute before I heard him hobbling around the living room. Then the door opened, shut, and his hobbling moved to the porch and down the front steps. “Thank God,” I muttered.

I stripped and pulled on an old flannel that, incidentally, was about Dean’s size—a fact I elected to strongly ignore—before crawling under the covers and curling into a ball. I couldn’t tell Dean that I was scared. I couldn’t tell him about what happened to my last group or what I suffered. I couldn’t tell him how I mourned for those children and had nightmares about what happened after they were taken. I couldn’t say that although he seemingly had placed his trust in me, I couldn’t bring myself to do the same, crush or not. I doubted I’d be able to fully trust anyone again.

I buried my face into the pillow and released silent sobs until exhaustion overtook me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and many other of my stories have been getting a lot of love lately, so I wanted to take a moment before posting the new chapter to thank you all for that. I was in a serious slump creatively this week, but seeing the uptick in feedback on my stories gave me the boost I needed to get going again. You guys have no idea how much it means to me when you leave a kudos or a comment. There's this little high I get whenever I see an email from ao3 in the morning because I know it's from one of you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank each and every one of you. You're amazing.
> 
> *Trigger warning for this chapter!* There's a brief scene that includes a flashback to the marauder's attack as well as a short nightmare about it.

I rolled out of bed the next morning with a groan, my joints popping in protest as I stretched and began moving towards the window to let in a little light. The panes were frosted over, and the unusually white light prompted me to rub away some of the frost with my sleeve. The thick layer of white coating everything made me panic a bit, worry for the animals settling into my bones. I scrambled to throw on a few extra layers and pull my boots on, but when I opened my bedroom door, I was met with a curtain of hot air.

“You’re up.”

It wasn’t a question, and Dean didn’t look at me when he said it.

“Uh, yeah.” I twisted my hair up into a bun and made my way over to the front door.

“Breakfast is almost done if you want any.”

I froze and bit my lip before turning to face him. “I need to get to Bessie and John. They’re—”

“Already fed and milked,” Dean informed me without looking up from the pan of eggs he was cooking. They sizzled and popped, tempting me with their smell. “Didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I guess they were ready to get out and moving this morning.”

He already did my chores? The layer of guilt in my stomach, already thick from our fight the night before, doubled in size with the knowledge. I walked over to the stove and hugged my middle. “Thank you,” I told him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He just shrugged and limped over to the kitchen, his face a carefully constructed impassive mask. “There wasn’t any point in them waiting longer than they had to, and I was already out there, so it made sense to go ahead and take care of it.” He came back with a couple of bowls and dished some food into one before handing it to me. “That’s what you do when you live with someone else. You work together.”

I stared down at the eggs, unable to meet his eyes. “About last night…”

Dean sighed and sat down on the chair I’d cut his hair in last night. “I get it, you know. You’ve been up here a long time, and you were right. This is a really nice place you’ve got, and you’ve pretty much figured everything out on your own, so you should be proud.” He took a deep breath and turned pleading eyes up at me. “But you can’t keep going like this. Trust me when I say it is not healthy. I know I probably freaked you out when I asked you to come with me, but I want you to know the offer stands. All you gotta do is say the word.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know I overreacted, but you just don’t know the hell I’ve been through with other people.”

He gave me a soft smile. “Like I said, the offer stands.”

“Thank you.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes before I chanced another peek at him. “I didn’t expect this kind of weather so soon. I thought we had at least another month before the first snowfall. You’re gonna have to start sleeping on the couch, you know. It’s way too cold for you to be outside in the barn.”

Dean’s brows nearly touched his hairline when he looked at me. “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying out there.”

I rolled my eyes and took our empty bowls to the sink. “There’s snow on the ground. You’ll die of hypothermia if you keep staying out there, so don’t be stupid about it.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Seriously?” I turned and leaned against the counter. “I think if you wanted to kill me you’d have made your move by now.”

He leaned back in the chair, folding his hands across his stomach. “It’s not the murder you should be concerned about.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p.” Dean threw me a wink. “I sleep in the nude.”

“Well at least you’ll scare off any intruders,” I retorted with a smile.

He tossed his head back and laughed, a real, honest, deep laugh that rang out in the otherwise silent cabin, and soon I found myself laughing right along with him. I couldn’t help it, the sound was infectious, and between the way his eyes danced in the cool light and the ease with which we slipped back into our normal banter, it was impossible not to smile.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his chest as he caught his breath. “My ego. That was brutal, woman.”

I smirked and flopped down onto the couch, crossing my ankles on the coffee table as I spoke. “What can I say? I’ve had plenty of time to formulate comebacks for all kinds of things.”

Dean chuckled again and shook his head before moving over to mirror my position on the couch. “There’s no telling what all’s been rattling around in that brain of yours.”

I hummed and closed my eyes, resting my head against the worn-out cushion. “Guess you’ll never know, will you?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

I itched to ask him what he meant, but instead I kept quiet, too afraid to go there. It was probably nothing. I was reading too much into the statement, that’s all. Instead we settled into a comfortable silence that soon turned into an unplanned—though probably needed—nap. 

All too soon, it seemed, I was being woken by a howling sound. It took a second for me to process it, but when I did, I bolted upright. At some point I’d pulled my feet up onto the couch, and as a result, I ended up kicking Dean when I moved. He, too, jerked awake, his hand flying to my ankle and gripping it tightly before I could deliver another blow. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded while I struggled to get free. 

“Let go of me! Don’t you hear it?”

“Hear what? The wind?”

I nodded and grabbed my coat off the hook while heading to the window. Everything outside was covered in white, and snow was still blowing in thick swirls across the space between the house and the barn. Dean came up behind me, and I turned to him. “A storm came in while we were asleep. I have to get the animals squared away before they freeze.”

His eyes stayed on the scene outside, his brow furrowed. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ll freeze yourself.”

“They need me,” I explained while shrugging past him to the door. “I’m all they’ve got.”

“Di—”

I pulled open the door, no small task against the force of the storm. “Get that fire going again, and I’ll bring in more wood on my way back. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

Before he could say anything else, I was gone. The wind whipped in all directions, blowing snow into my face and pulling at my hair, but I pressed on, wading into the already shin deep drifts beside the porch. I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me, but I knew which direction the barn was in and headed that way. It took several minutes, but when I finally got there, Bessie and Big John were huddled together right outside the door. 

I cleared away the snow that had piled up outside the door and heaved it open enough for the animals to pass through before turning to them. “C’mon, you two,” I shouted over the wind while pulling the horse inside. Bessie followed on his heels, no doubt desperate to get out of the wind herself. I put John in his stall and led Bessie into hers before going to the tack room where Dean usually slept. I grabbed a pile of tarps I kept specifically for the winter months and began nailing them to the outer walls around the stalls to keep the majority of the cold air out. 

When that was done, I shoveled dried grass into each stall both for food and added warmth, broke the layer of ice on their water troughs, and then milked Bessie before moving on to the chickens. They were all but silent, huddled together in a mass of feathers at the back of their pen and blinking at me with dark eyes. I threw out corn and grass for them as well and gathered what eggs I could find. After making sure they were secure, I went back to the door of the barn and grabbed the pail of milk and headed outside.

About halfway to the house, I saw it. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, the snow casting weird shadows on the yard, but then it moved closer, and I knew for sure someone was there. “Dean?” The figure froze, and I yelled again. “Dean! Get back inside! It’s okay, I’m coming!” He turned around and moved in the opposite direction, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “What kind of idiot…” I muttered while trudging forward. I could see now the overprotective side he had coming out in full force. He couldn’t trust that I’d be okay for more than a few minutes alone! It was as if I hadn’t survived a whole freaking decade on my own out here. Stupid man, thinks he’s so smart. Typical for a guy to think he had to swoop in and save the day when it was me that saved him in the first—

I was knocked to the ground by what felt like a truck, milk and eggs flying everywhere as I landed in the ice and slush. I scrambled into a crouch, my head on a swivel, eyes searching the walls of white and grey around me and finding nothing. Slowly, I eased back up, moving carefully towards what I thought was the direction of the house, but the way I fell, I couldn’t be sure. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and my freezing fingers itched for a weapon.

I was hit again, this time in the back, and something heavy pinned me to the ground. I struggled against it as hot breath panted against my neck, and something forced my face down into the snow, cutting off my air. Immediately, I was back in that field ten years ago, my limbs pinned to the ground as the marauders began their assault. No, no, no. I couldn’t, wouldn’t go back there. My mind couldn’t take it. My fight or flight response took over, and I flailed and pushed to try and get up or roll over, anything as long as I wasn’t helplessly inhaling ice and snow. 

“Stop struggling,” my attacker hissed. They fisted a hand in my hair and yanked my head back painfully before sniffing along my neck as I screamed in pain. “It’s been a while since I had fresh human and not that rotten stuff. I want to enjoy it.” 

“Please,” I gasped, trying to appeal to their humanity. The attacker was too strong for me to fight in this position, so begging was all I had left. The words tasted like bile on my tongue, too reminiscent of the ones I’d tried so long ago. The whole scene, in fact, was eerily similar to that day. “You don’t have to do this. I can help you. I have supplies. Take whatever you want, just please—"

Sharp pain lanced through the side of my neck, but then I heard a whack, and the body pinning me down turned to dead weight. I scrambled away from my attacker, but when I rolled over and looked up, a man’s body lay in two pieces where I’d been moments ago—and holy shit, what the hell was up with his teeth?!—and Dean stood over him, chest heaving and a bloody machete in his grip. I stared up at Dean in horror and flinched back as he dropped to his knees in front of me. Keeping the machete in his right hand, he gripped my jaw with his left and turned my face so he could see my neck. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. When I didn’t say anything, he turned my face back to him and brought his other hand up so that he could cup my cheeks. “Diana? You with me?” Tears stung my eyes, but I managed to nod weakly, and his shoulders sagged with relief. “Good. C’mon.”

Dean got to his feet and pulled me along while maintaining a tight grip on my elbow. I don’t know if he expected me not to follow or what, but there was no way I was staying out there alone after what I’d just seen. We reached the porch, and he pushed me inside before shutting and bolting the door behind us. I sank onto the couch and watched as he went around to all the windows, locking them up tight. When he was done, Dean turned to me, ran a hand through his wild hair, and grabbed a washcloth and clean towel from the sink before collapsing onto the coffee table.

His eyes were wide, gentle, brows furrowed as he reached for me, but I flinched again. I wasn’t ready for that yet, couldn’t let my guard down while adrenaline continued to pump through my veins. “S’okay,” he murmured. Dean motioned towards my neck and the pain I’d all but forgotten. “I need to clean that up.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stay still so I wouldn’t bolt, my hands clenched into fists on my thighs as he swiped at the blood on my skin. It took everything I had not to scream when he touched me. He hadn’t hurt me though, I reminded myself. Dean was the one that saved me, and he was just trying to make the hurt go away. He didn’t know what I had been through before today, didn’t know how much I was really dealing with. He was good. Good, I repeated. He was helping.

Slowly, eventually, I was able to relax my muscles and let Dean do his thing. Opening my eyes, I watched him carefully. He was consumed by his task, wholly focused on cleaning the area without getting too close to the raw spots. Every so often his green eyes would flick up to meet mine, and his lips would part slightly before he swallowed and continued with his work. It was like he was searching for something to say but kept coming up empty. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his hand after a while. “You probably have a bunch of questions, huh?”

I nodded. “Wha—” Clearing my throat, I tried again. “What was that thing?”

“Vampire. They, uh, they’re real.”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Otherwise that was a new twist on a nightmare I’d rather not revisit right now.”

Dean’s lips quirked up at the side before his eyes fell back to the floor between our feet. He took my hands in his and held them tight as he spoke. “You should know that everything else—werewolves, ghosts, demons, angels—that’s all real, too. I’ve been…hunting monsters and the like since I was a kid, or I was until the world went to pot. My brother and I grew up in the life after our mom got murdered because Dad was hellbent on getting revenge and dragged us across the country hunting down everything he came across.” He huffed in disgust and shook his head. “Hunting is a freaking shit show, Di. I mean, sure you gank the bad things and maybe save a few people along the way, but there’s no joy in it, no real happiness. It’s just a never-ending rollercoaster of pain.”

“Why not do something else?”

Dean shrugged. “Never really had a choice. Once you’re in, you’re in, and hunters don’t really get a chance to have a normal life.” He took a breath before continuing. “The Marigold Virus isn’t the result of mad scientists or a mutation gone wrong. It happened because Lucifer was released on the world. He was causing chaos, and we tried to stop him, but it wasn’t enough. He was too strong, and Hell won. I wish he would’ve just killed me, but he didn’t, just gave me this weird smile and disappeared. Michael was pissed when he came back, but he left me alive, too. Guess he figured it was my fault we lost, so I deserved to see it all play out.”

“Dean?” He looked up, and I squeezed his hands. “You were there?”

He nodded weakly. “My brother and I both were. So was Cas and Bobby, my adoptive father.”

“Did they make it out, too?”

“Cas and Bobby did, but Bobby passed a few years ago.” Dean tapped his temple. “Brain aneurism.”

I hated myself for bringing it up, but I had to ask. “And your brother?” His face crumbled, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry, Dean.” I felt him hesitate, but then Dean’s arms came up around me in a crushing embrace.

We stayed that way for a while, clinging to each other, the pain of our pasts intermingling as we attempted to both give and draw comfort from the other, before he pulled back and wiped at his face. Immediately, I missed the security of his warmth, and when did that happen? When did I let myself rely on him that much? Dean stood and went over to stoke the fire, keeping his back to me. “You should get some sleep. Vamps don’t really travel alone, so we need to keep an eye out for his nest.” He settled with his forearms on his thighs and sighed. “I’ll take first watch.”  
_____________

I had been reduced to begging. 

Rocks dug into my cheek, and the smell of wet earth filled my nose as he pressed me harder against the dirt. 

“The more you fight, the harder it’ll be.”

“Let her fight. I like it rough.”

I thrashed wildly, trying in vain to escape my attackers, but they were too strong, and I was without a weapon. One pulled at my clothes while another kicked me, his boot connecting first with my ribs and then with my jaw. I coughed and spit, and suddenly my head was yanked back so that I was forced to stare at the man in front of me.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told him as tears welled in my eyes. “You can walk away.”  
_____________

I came to with a gasp, fighting the marauders’ iron-like grip on my limbs. I couldn’t let them win. I had to fight, had to survive.

“Di! Hey, hey, hey, it’s me, okay? You’re safe!”

No. No, he was lying. I wasn’t going to be safe until I got away. My fist connected with something soft, and I heard a groan, but his hold didn’t let up.

“Dammit! Diana, open your eyes!”

I did and looked straight up at Dean, his face just inches above my own. I furrowed my brows as I stared up at him. He was here? How? “Dean? What…?”

“You’re okay,” he told me, though he didn’t let go of my wrists. “You’re safe now.”

I glanced beside me at the old dresser and the scarred wooden flooring. Home. I was home, and Dean was… ”Why are you on top of me?”

He let go and sat back but kept his seat beside me on the edge of the mattress. “You were having a nightmare,” he explained. “I tried to calm you down, but you kept fighting me. I was afraid you were gonna hurt yourself.”

I pushed myself up and drew my legs to my chest before wrapping my arms around them. I pressed my cheek to the top of my knees and glanced at Dean out of the corner of my eye. “Did I hurt you?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a little half-hearted smile. “Just my pride. Do you get nightmares like that a lot?”

I shook my head and paused. “Sometimes, but they haven’t been that bad in a while, not since I first came here and allowed myself to sleep deep enough to actually dream.”

Dean reached out and gently brushed a strand of sweat slick hair behind my ear. “You gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed in a small voice. “That vampire just dragged up a bunch of old crap, and I’m not sure how long it’ll stay with me this time.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

I was so going to regret it in the morning, but at the moment I couldn’t help myself. 

“Stay?”

Dean nodded, and I scooted over so he could slip under the covers. We lay there on our sides facing each other for a moment before he opened his arms in invitation. Screw it, I thought. If he’s offering, I’m accepting. I wiggled closer until there was barely any space left between us and gripped his t-shirt in my fist, reveling in the way his arms formed a protective barrier between me and the world. Even with everything else happening outside, I was safe there. Safe. Gah, finally. Burying my face in his chest, I inhaled slowly and released it with a sigh. 

“Thank you,” I whispered, the words just loud enough to be heard above our own breathing.

Dean hummed and ran his hand up and down my back. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

In the decade I’d lived there, I’d never seen so much snow heaped upon my tiny cabin in so short a time. It was now up to my thighs in some places, and I had to clear a path to the barn daily to keep up with my chores. The timing of the weather was also weird. It was still technically fall, and the ground didn’t freeze enough for snow to stick until at least December. Combine that with the recent monster attack, and it all left a bad taste in my mouth, but it seemed I wasn’t the only one that noticed a change in the air.

Dean had doubled his efforts to keep us safe from the impending vampire attack—apparently they almost never traveled alone, and their mates were vengeful creatures—and everything else in the world, it seemed. Not only was the house locked up tight, but he also insisted on accompanying me anytime I went outside. The inner walls of the cabin were covered in wards, a project he spent the better part of a day working on, and he had started teaching me everything he knew about what was really in the world. It was mind-boggling the things I’d missed working in healthcare, the patterns that I now recalled as the work of supernatural beings instead of the usual miracles and crazies I used to associate with them.

We also continued to share a bed.

It wasn’t as awkward as I assumed it would be after that first night. Instead, it felt…natural, like coming home. I never realized how big the bed was or how empty and cold the sheets were until I had someone else to warm them. Each night, after the fire had been reduced to coals and the wards checked and doors locked, Dean and I would take turns cleaning up and changing clothes, and crawl into opposite sides of the bed. We always started out several inches apart on our sides, but just like that first night we always came together after a few minutes of silently staring and pretending like we were fine. The truth was, we both needed the comfort that came from being close to someone we trusted. Yes, I held on to Dean, but he kept a firm grip on me, too. As tightly as I clung to him in my sleep, he pulled me just as close and breathed a sigh of relief into my hair once I settled into the space below his chin. Our days were filled with work and dread and fear, but there was a sweet relief that seeped into our bones when we finally went to sleep.

Of course, as sweet as the nights were, there was nothing like waking up next to Dean Winchester. I don’t know why, but it continued to come as a shock to me each time I opened my eyes to find him staring at me. Perhaps my brain spent the night convincing itself everything that’d happened was an elaborate dream, and upon waking, Dean shattered that fragile resolve just by being real and solid and present.  
_____________

When I opened my eyes on the third day, Dean was watching me, his face only inches from my own. “Morning.” His voice, rougher than usual from disuse, washed over me, breaking the ice on things deep in my core that’d long ago frozen over.

I yawned and blinked, a slow smile spreading across my lips as my stomach fluttered and then settled. “You need a different hobby,” I told him. “There’s gotta be something more interesting to look at around here than this mug.”

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges, before reaching up and brushing my hair back over my ear just as he did the night I’d had my nightmare. My heart pounded against my ribs as he touched me, his calloused palm lingering on my cheek, and for a split second I wondered if I would pass out before my lungs started working again. “Nah, this is good.” His brows pulled together, and he ran his thumb across my cheekbone, and then, “Di…can I try something?” 

Internally I was freaking out, my mind flashing back to and analyzing all the seemingly innocent touches we’d shared that came with the familiarity born of spending so much time with someone else. I’d become accustomed to brushing shoulders when we moved by each other, holding hands while we talked, and our limbs being intertwined at night, but this, the way he was focusing all his energy on reading my face and calculating my reaction, the way he moved in such small increments closer to me, the care with which he held me, I knew it was different, a turning point for everything from there on out.

Dean stopped, his lips just short of mine, and whispered. “You can tell me to stop.”

I swallowed and covered his hand with my own. “No, it’s okay. I—I want this.”

“You sure.”

“Yeah.”

He closed the gap, pressing his mouth gently to mine and then moving slowly against it. I melted against him once the initial shock wore off, one hand was fisting in his shirt and the other moving up to run my fingers through his hair. I licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss, and Dean groaned deep in his chest before rolling so that he was half on top of me, one leg between my knees and the length of his body pressed against me. I gasped, and he was quick to back away, but I pulled him back down.

“This is good,” I panted. “Just, don’t go too far, okay?”

The worry slipped from his face, replaced by a soft smile. Dean took my hand and closed his eyes as he kissed the inside of my wrist, my palm, my fingertips, leaving a tingling in his wake. “We don’t have to,” he said and chuckled, looking up at me again, his eyes soft. “This isn’t something I wanna mess up.”

I swallowed down the lump of emotion his words brought on and took his face in my hands, pulling him closer. I kissed him softly and let our foreheads rest against one another. “Thank you,” I told him, fighting the prick of tears in my eyes. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Dean kissed me again, his mouth lingering on mine, before pushing off me with a groan. He sat up and rubbed the back of his head before grinning at me over his shoulder. “How about we do breakfast instead?”

I propped myself up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow at him. “You gonna cook?”

“Sure, why not?”

Reaching forward, I laced my fingers with his and smiled. “Okay,” I said. “I’m just gonna wash my face and get dressed real quick. I’ll be out soon.”

Dean nodded and patted my leg before getting up and going into the other room. I watched him go, taking a second to appreciate the way he moved, his body completely sure of itself even when half-awake. He barely limped on his ankle anymore and had no use for the cane—I guess it wasn’t broken after all, just a bad sprain that took a little longer to heal up. My heart gave a little twinge as I realized our time together was coming to an end. Now mobile, Dean would be wanting to get back to his people as soon as possible. He’d asked me to come with, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving my animals alone to fend for themselves. 

So what, then, was the point of getting this close to him if our relationship or whatever it was called was doomed to fail? We didn’t have long, so why not take a chance on him? Why not open up just a little bit more? Not yet, though, I thought as I watched him come back from the bathroom and pull the basket of eggs over to a bowl on the counter. The timing wasn’t right. I feared such an act would mark the inevitable end of our temporary relationship, and there were still so many things I wanted to explore with him, so many things I’d yet to learn about the mysterious man who—somewhat literally—fell into my world. Later, then. Yeah, I could deal with later. 

My resolve strengthened, I flipped the covers back and settled my feet on the hardwood floor. I grabbed a change of clothes from the dresser and made my way through the living room to the bathroom. Dean turned and smiled at me as I closed the door, a dish towel slung casually over his shoulder, and I envisioned another life, one without monsters or demons where the living dead was just a thing shown on television. I saw comfortable mornings reading the paper and sipping coffee, Dean’s bare feet thrown up on the coffee table while his slippers sat neatly on the floor beside him. There was a dog curled up at my side. Birds chirped. The sun shined. Everything was glaringly, breathtakingly, absurdly normal.

And I desperately wanted it.  
_____________

Our day progressed normally with breakfast and doing chores, though now there were the touches that lingered a bit longer than usual and all-consuming stares that were bound to set me aflame were it not for the freezing temperatures outside. As it was, Dean and I got caught in a brief make out session in the barn. It started innocently enough. Dean was throwing some dried grass to John in his stall and stopped to rub the big guy’s face and neck—the sight so gentle it made me sigh at how soft the whole thing was—when John jerked back and blew snot straight into Dean’s face. He grimaced and used his shirt to wipe it off. 

“Something funny, Di?” he asked dryly, though there was the inkling of a grin playing on his lips.

I covered my mouth with my hand in a feeble attempt to hide my laughter. “Not a thing,” I said between breaths. “Not a damn thing.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he abandoned John in favor of stalking towards me. “Not a damn thing, huh?” Still grinning, I shook my head and let him back me up against the door to the tack room. He put a hand on the wall beside my head and leaned in. “How about now?” he prodded. 

I took a breath to steady myself and was assaulted by a mixture of sweat and hay and cold. This close I could make out every little speck in his eyes and every freckle on his face in the sunlight that reflected off the snow. It hit him perfectly, casting him in an almost heavenly glow, and I allowed myself a second to truly appreciate his features before sliding my hands between his jacket and flannel. I tilted my head back to rest with a thunk against the door and drew my bottom lip between my teeth as my hands settled on his waist. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement before slowly turning back up to mine.

“Nope.”

We burst into a fit of giggles that broke the tension, but then he used one hand to cup my jaw, and I pulled him into me by the back of his shirt, and we just kind of fell into the kiss, our lips and tongues moving against each other while our bodies closed every inch of space left between us. Dean’s hands dropped to my waist and skimmed over my rear before gripping my thighs and picking me up so I could wrap my legs around him, and man, when he ground up into me, it took everything I had not to jump his bones right there in the barn. Then he moved down to nuzzle my neck, and the newly found oxygen seeping into my brain helped me to remember why I wanted to wait.

We ended up vegging out between lunch and supper, lounging on the couch while the heater popped and cracked. I’m sure there were things that needed to be done, but as I lay on Dean’s chest with his fingers drawing designs lazily on my back, I couldn’t bring myself to care. I’d gone ten years without human contact of any kind, so I was determined to get all I could from Dean before he left. 

“What was it like?” I whispered after a while. “Having a brother, I mean.”

“If you’d asked me ten years ago, I probably would’ve brushed it off with a joke about how annoying he was, but now…” He sighed. “Honestly? It was awesome. The way we were raised kind of forced us to be closer than most siblings what with all the motel rooms and everything, and we fought constantly because of that, but we took care of each other, too. He always had my back—no matter what we were up against.”

I tilted my head up to peer at him, but Dean looked like he was lost in his own head, so I tried to drag him back into the here and now. “What was he like?”

Dean glanced down at me with the ghost of a smile. “A nerd.” 

“Seriously?” I snorted.

His smile grew. “Oh yeah. A total bookworm, like, the dorkiest guy I’ve ever known. I mean, the whole reason he had all that hair was to cover that big brain of his.” I laughed, and Dean went on. “I couldn’t care less when it came to school, even dropped out eventually—”

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah, but Sam? Pfft, he aced everything regardless of how many times we moved schools. Kid just couldn’t let go and take it easy. He was always wound up tighter than I don’t know what, but it served him well. He went to Stanford on a full ride. Got into law school and everything. He never knew how proud I was of him for that.” 

Sam. I couldn’t believe Dean had let his brother’s name slip. It was the first time he’d done so, but I wasn’t about to point it out for fear of him shutting down or changing the topic. I just stowed the information away and made a mental note not to accidentally call him by it whenever he came up in discussion. 

The pads of Dean’s fingers skimmed up to the base of my skull, and he lingered there before letting them drift back down my spine. “He was a big ol’ softie,” he whispered. “He had this way of connecting with victims when we worked a case that I never really grasped. I think maybe people just sensed that he was a gentle soul, so they felt safe confiding in him.” Dean tucked his free arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes darting this way and that like he was watching his memories play out on the old slabs of wood in front of him. “He was always like that though. I can’t tell you how many times he tried to adopt a stray dog when we were kids, but Dad always said no. Wasn’t like we could carry a dog around the States with us anyway. Damned thing would’ve ruined Baby’s interior.”

“I think I would’ve liked him,” I murmured.

Dean watched me for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and then, softly, he said, “He would’ve liked you, too.”

We lapsed into silence for several minutes and were simply enjoying the quiet when Dean tensed, his whole body going rigid beneath me. I lifted my head to peer at him with sleepy eyes, but he wasn’t looking at me at all. His head was turned, pulse pounding visibly in his neck and eyes locked on the front door. “Dean? You okay?”

“Thought I heard something.” He patted my shoulder, and I moved to give him room. He crossed the living room silently, stepping over the creaky floorboards as he made his way to the window. His eyes widened, and I heard him breathe “son of a bitch” before he spun and swiped a machete off the hook by the door. In a flash he was beside me. He gripped my upper arm and hauled me up, shoving me towards the bedroom before I had the chance to get my feet under me. 

“Go hide and keep your machete close,” he growled, pressing the weapon into my palm.

My fingers reflexively curled around the worn handle, and I looked up at him in alarm but did as he said when I saw the distress written into every line on his face. “Marigolds?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “Vampires. Tons of them out by the—” The sound of Bessie and Big John in distress cut him off, and Dean winced at their cries. “—barn.” 

I pushed against him, desperately trying to get to my animals, but I could’ve been beating on a brick wall for all the progress I made. “Let me by!” I hissed. “They need me!”

Dean put both hands on my face, forcing me to look him in the eye. “That’s exactly what the nest wants, Di! They’re trying to draw us out in the open so we’re more vulnerable. At least if we stay inside we have a chance of defending ourselves!”

“I can’t just leave them out there to die!”

“Yes, you can!” 

“But—”

“Diana!” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was a tenderness there I didn’t expect and a tinge of desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry, but we can’t save them. You have to listen to me now, okay? Do exactly what I tell you, and maybe we’ll make it out of this alive.”

I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes and pushed the aching in my chest down until it was somewhat bearable. Nodding tightly, I asked, “What do we do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, I'm 37 weeks pregnant with our second child, so there may come a point in the next month where updates are slower or nonexistent for a period of time. I've written ahead several chapters, but I wanted to make anyone following this story aware. I am not, by any means, going to abandon it, but things may not stay on the same weekly schedule after our son is born. Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a little longer to update this week! I'll try to be better about that.

Scratches at the door.

One along the far wall beside the stove.

Another on the window pane in the living room.

I stood pressed into the corner behind the locked door to my bedroom, the chest of drawers offering just enough coverage to keep me hidden in the shadows if someone entered. My shaking hands tightened, sweat-slick palms slipping on the grip of my machete. Breathe, Dean had told me when he placed me here. Just breathe. Closing my eyes, I dragged in a breath and held it a moment before releasing it with a shaky exhale.

I knew there was only one way in and out of the house—Dean had secured everything except the front door, leaving it purposely unlocked so he could control where the vampires entered—and that they’d have to get by him and my locked door to get to me, but it did nothing to calm my nerves. Dean had counted at least five of the monsters as he was securing the house, and I dreaded the thought of him trying to go up against them all by himself. He’d insisted it was nothing, that he’d taken on that many before, but there was something in his eyes that made me think he wasn’t being a hundred percent honest when he said it. 

There was another scratch on the window to my room, this one long and drawn out, its screech piercing my eardrums and making it hard to think about anything beyond that sound. They were just toying with us now. 

There was the unmistakable sound of boots on the front porch, and they paused at the front door for a few beats before it creaked open slowly. I peered through the crack between hinges on my own door and watched as a burly man entered, snow falling from his shoulders and cap as he shook off the cold. A young woman stepped in behind him and placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room, her dark nose scrunching in disgust as she took in her surroundings. I couldn’t see Dean from my position, but I knew he was nearby and waiting for his chance to spring.

“What a dump,” the female muttered. “Who would live in a place like this?”

Asshole, I thought. I was quite proud of my little cabin.

The male arched an eyebrow and turned to her. “Really? After all the places we’ve squatted over the years?”

“Oh please, that was years ago. We haven’t lived in squalor such as this since before the outbreak.”

The male nodded. “True. Thank God for Lucifer, am I right? No?” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeesh. Touchy, touchy.”

They made their way further into the room, and the door slammed shut behind them. The vampires spun, hands curling into claws and hisses escaping their bared teeth as Dean dropped the board barring the door into place. He smirked and spun his blade expertly while widening his stance. Heavy blows rained down on the door at his back as other vampires sought entry, but he paid them no mind, choosing instead to focus on the two in front of him.

“I assure you,” Dean told them, “God washed His hands of this mess a long time ago.”

“Winchester,” the woman sneered. “Where’s that brother of yours? Oh wait, I forgot.”

His smirk fell, and a menacing expression crossed his face. “Shut your face, bitch, or I’ll shut it for you.”

She circled to his left, and Dean’s eyes tracked her movement while keeping the other vampire in front of him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she taunted, continuing to worm her way around him. “The way I hear it, you Winchesters aren’t as righteous as everyone thinks. Come on, sweetheart. I’ll make it real good for you, much better than that slut of yours can.”

Before she could say anything else, Dean lunged at her, slicing her head off in one fell swoop. The male charged and pushed Dean against the door while grasping the arm with his machete. The monster slammed it against the bare wood once, twice, three times, and I watched in horror as it clattered to the floor. Dean was without a weapon, but apparently that didn’t mean he was defenseless. He thrust his knee into the vampire’s groin, and the thing doubled over in pain while Dean plunged his elbow down onto the back of its neck. He dove passed the monster and made a grab for his machete. He glanced my way, but I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at the open door behind him and the hoard of hungry vamps salivating over him. I gasped, and they all turned to look at me. 

“Oh shit.”

Dean spun out of his crouch onto his feet and began backing up, his machete held out to keep the vampires at a distance as they leaked into the room. I opened my bedroom door as he crept closer and slid out to stand at his side.

“Bad idea,” Dean growled.

“The bad idea was letting you fight them alone.”

“Diana—”

“Dean, stop. Now is so not the time.”

“Yeah, Dean,” one of the vampires, another female, this one with corn silk hair that hung to her waist, leered. “Don’t fight with the girl. Wouldn’t want the last words your lover hears to be ones of anger.”

As she spoke, another vampire jumped at me. Dean swept his arm out in front of me, and the man stopped but didn’t move back. I glared at him around Dean’s shoulder, but it didn’t have the same effect as when Dean did it. The vampire just returned my expression with a glare of his own and bared his fangs. Not one to back down from a fight, I batted Dean’s arm away and squared my shoulders with the monster—he’d be my first kill. 

As if reading my mind, the vampire rushed me, knocking Dean off balance when he tried to intercept it, and I shifted, throwing all my weight into the punch I threw. I hit him hard in the nose, but the thing kept coming. The others closed in and were attacking from all sides. My experience with vampires was admittedly limited, but my mind flashed back to that Buffy movie and the vampire who’d gotten his arm chopped off as he got knocked off a van by a low hanging tree limb. He was strong, but the missing limb still proved to be a handicap later in the movie, so I swung and chopped wildly, not caring in the least if my machete cut their heads off as long as it hit something. I thought we were making progress, but soon Dean and I were separated in the bloody chaos, and my confidence began to wane.

I got turned around and herded towards the front door by two vamps that were each missing limbs or had one hanging by nothing more than sinew, and the cold wind from outside rushed in, blowing my hair into my eyes. They took advantage and came at me, but despite my continued swings—one that resulted in a beheading—I still ended up flat on my back on the front porch. The breath rushed out of me with an oomph, and I groaned before looking up into the eyes of another male vamp that I hadn’t noticed before. He must have been waiting outside in case we escaped. He reached towards me, and I automatically swung again, but he grasped my wrist and hauled me to my feet before catching the vampire that had thrown me by the shirt collar and forcing him up against the wall, pinning him there while he pulled a machete of his own from a leather sheath at his waist. 

“I am not your enemy,” the new guy implored before punctuating his statement with the thud of the vampire’s head on the floor. I backed up a step, unwilling to trust him just because he said I could. He rolled his eyes, muttering, “I don’t have time for this,” and stepped into the cabin.

I followed him inside, but he was already yanking a vampire off Dean and slicing through another one’s neck. They quickly disposed of the remaining vampire, the man holding it down while Dean cut its head off. Dean immediately grabbed the guy by the shoulder, and I tensed for another fight, but then he pulled him in for a hug, and I just stood there blinking while they chuckled and patted each other on the back. 

“What the hell are you doing here, man?” Dean asked, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“I should think that’s obvious, Dean. I’ve been looking for you since you disappeared.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean—”

“I was beginning to think you were dead.” The man’s eyes flickered to me before settling on Dean again, the look conveying a silent message to him. “You seem fine though.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth before pulling the guy in again, though this time he held him a little tighter and for a little longer. “That’s Diana,” he said as he stepped back, gesturing towards me with his machete. “I was attacked by a hoard the night I disappeared. I lost my weapon and ended up about a hundred yards that way with two on top of me when she showed up out of nowhere and saved me. Di, this is Cas.”

Cas…right. His best friend. The guy nodded once at me in acknowledgment before stepping over a body to get to me. I eyed him warily, still uncertain of anyone new I came across, and flinched when he took my hand in both of his, but instead of feeling terrified, I was filled with warmth and security, like I was totally at peace in his presence. Cas firmly locked my hand in his grip and looked me in the eye as he spoke.

“Thank you for that. Several people would have been devastated if you hadn’t intervened when you did.” Cas continued to stare at me and narrowed his eyes, tilting his head just a bit to the right. “You’ve made a big difference in the fate of this world, you know,” he said, pitching his voice lower. 

Dean sighed—I could practically hear him rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Cas, buddy, you’re gonna freak her out.’

Cas snorted without looking at him. “Please. She’s handling the vampire attack remarkably well for a non-hunter. I doubt anything I say could rattle her bones, except well…” His face fell, sorrow etching itself into every dirt-filled crevice. “I take it you know the fate of your livestock?”

“I do,” I whispered. 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was filled with warning, but neither of us paid him any mind.

“I’m sorry for your loss. They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”

I pressed my lips into a line, nodding tightly and fighting the tears so I could maintain eye contact with him. I could tell he was being sincere not just about the loss of a vital resource but also for the loss of my own friends, my…my family. Shit. 

I blinked, a couple of tears escaping as I did, and Dean was immediately on me, separating me from Cas and wrapping me in his arms. I was stiff, still trying to get a handle on my emotions, but he held on until I relaxed into him. Tucking my head beneath his chin, Dean gave me a gentle squeeze. “You want me to clean up out there?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head. “No, I need—” I drew in a ragged breath. “I need to do it, say goodbye, you know.”

Cas spoke up, his voice a bit hesitant. “I feel I should warn you, it isn’t a pleasant sight. The vampires ri—” He stopped abruptly after Dean turned his head in his direction.

“At least let us help,” Dean said. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

I turned into him and wrapped my arms around his waist, once more thinking how nice it was to have a little help. “Thank you,” I said, the words muffled by his shirt.  
_____________

That night, after disposing of the bodies in two separate bonfires—one for the monsters and one for the livestock because I sure as hell wasn’t having innocent souls being mixed with evil ones—Dean guided me back to the house and sat with me on the couch while walking Cas through where to find everything in order to make tea. I’d been numb since the initial shock of seeing my family torn to shreds, their bodies and blood scattered across the barn in a barbaric scene, and hadn’t cried at all since we’d cleared the house of vampires. After the adrenaline that had flooded my veins during the fight faded, my body had just shut down and gone on autopilot. Now though, with my hands finally idle and mind left with nothing else to do, it was all starting to sink in.

Three things were clear. First, my animals—one of my main resources and the only kind of family I’d had in years—were dead, wiped out, finished. Finding them had been difficult in the beginning, but replacing them would be near impossible now, and with winter firmly setting in, my food stores had been drastically diminished. Two, Cas’s arrival cemented Dean’s departure. There was no way I could convince him to put off leaving. Our time together always had an expiration date, but now that time had been put on the fast-track, and we had only hours left together. Third, I was about to be totally and completely alone. Again.

My stomach twisted with the thought as a sense of dread washed over me. It hung there like a dark curtain, casting everything around me in shadow. What was I supposed to do? My eyes drifted to Dean beside me, saw his mouth moving and hand pointing to something in the kitchen, but I couldn’t focus on whatever it was he was saying. He’d offered to let me come with him when he left, but I turned him down, and the idea still didn’t settle well with me. I was having a hard enough time coming to terms with Cas staying the night in my cabin without trying to wrap my mind around living with a ton of other strangers, too. 

Ew. No, thanks. 

I shuddered, and Dean’s arm tightened around me. “You good?” I grimaced—the idea of new people still running rampant in my head—and shook my head. “How about some tea? If nothing else, it’ll warm you up, and Cas makes a pretty good cup.”

“You’re a tea guy?” I asked skeptically. I’d seen him drink it several times in the last few weeks because we didn’t really have much else to choose from, but he’d never mentioned anything about preferences regarding it. 

“Definitely not,” Cas told me while pushing a mug across the coffee table, “Convincing him of their medicinal properties wasn’t easy, but he got sick a few years ago and realized that herbs aren’t just a ‘load of crap.’” He sat down cross-legged on the floor and blew gently on his own cup. “Eventually I was able to show him the calming effects as well.”

“Still not as good as whiskey,” Dean grunted.

“I’m sorry tea doesn’t allow you to lose consciousness. Let me just spike it with a few Vicodin—oh wait. There aren’t any prescription drugs left on this particular planet.” Cas rolled his eyes before his mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Dean has a problem with facing his issues head on. He’d much rather bury them.”

Dean huffed, but I patted his thigh before reaching for the cup in front of me. “Can’t really say I blame him. Some things are too hard to wrap your head around, and a temporary escape can be a good thing. I mean, what I wouldn’t give for a bottle of bourbon right about now, you know?”

Cas locked me down with a heavy stare. “Coping mechanisms only work if they are healthy and serve to further the recovery process. Continually drinking to excess does neither of those things. It’s a rather ineffective band-aid.”

I saluted him with my mug, and he returned the gesture. I had to admit, the guy was starting to grow on me. I took a sip of the tea and sighed. “That’s actually pretty good.”

Dean gave my shoulder another light squeeze. “Told you he was good.”

I nodded and placed it back on the table. “Not to be ungrateful or anything, but I think I do need an escape in the form of unconsciousness right now. I’m gonna get some sleep.” I rose, and Dean stood with me, catching my hand as I turned away. “You know where everything is,” I told him. “Go ahead and get Cas settled for the night.”

“Cas is a big boy, he can take care of himself. You’re the one I’m—”

“I’m fine.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him for a few seconds. “Take care of Cas,” I whispered. “You know where to find me when you’re done.”

He slid into bed a while later and tucked one arm under my head and wrapped the other around my middle, pulling me snugly against him. “I thought you were gonna try and sleep.”

I sighed and rolled onto my back. “Can’t. Whenever I close my eyes all I see is…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” I could feel his eyes on me in the dim light, but I refused to look at him, keeping my gaze resolutely on the ceiling. “I wish I could say I don’t know how someone could be so ruthless, but I’d be lying.”

“Monsters don’t make a lot of sense.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not that. The monster that attacked me the other day was starving, and I get that because it was just trying to survive, but the ones that came today were looking for revenge. They wanted to make sure we would be fatally wounded even if they couldn’t kill us physically. And what they did in the barn? That was personal.”

Dean propped himself up on an elbow and leaned over me, forcing me to look at him. “I told you they’d be out for revenge.”

“I know, but…” I sighed and slapped a hand over my eyes.

He gently pried it away, holding it lightly in his grasp. “But what?”

“When I first saw the world falling apart, I thought people would band together for the greater good, and some did. Some good souls survived, but it’s like they continue to be snuffed out while monsters thrive on the discourse. It doesn’t make any sense.” I rolled onto my side to face him then and fiddled with a hole in his shirt. I felt the tell-tale tears stinging behind my eyes and squeezed them shut to stave off the emotion. When I finally spoke, my voice was whisper soft. “I just wish things had turned out differently is all.”

Dean kissed my forehead and pulled me into his chest. “Me, too, kid. Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JESUS! 
> 
> It's been forever since I last posted, but between a newborn, a toddler, and trying to recover myself while also battling PPD, life has been insane and unforgiving as far as alone time goes. In other words, I've had almost no time to write, but somehow I have finally turned out another chapter. I'm sorry it's taken so long, but hopefully you guys are still with me, and if you are, THANK YOU!

It’s funny how quickly things change. 

Looking down at the empty stalls from my perch in the rafters, it hit me once more how fragile life could be. Flowers that somehow managed to grow up between sidewalk cracks despite the less than ideal conditions were suddenly squished beneath the tread of a busy, errand-running mother. Trees that grew for hundreds of years, their bark twisted and scarred by the forces of nature, burned bright after a single lightning strike. People, too, for all their many achievements, often died by accident in a snap. I saw it all the time in the ER. In fact, it seemed to be a more common cause of death than old age. It’d been a long time since I’d really pondered the idea—years in fact—but that’s what happens when you get comfortable. Things change. People change. You lose the ones you love either by force, as was the case here, or they leave by choice, as my parents had, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, you forget that Fate is a bitch that continually finds ways to screw you over because that’s how she gets her rocks off. Maybe she enjoys the rush of having so much control, or maybe it’s no longer a rush at all. Maybe she’s just bored and lazily striking matches of destruction as carelessly as a child left unattended.

My gaze wandered towards a stain on the door to the tack room. An unexpected jolt of warmth ran through me as I remembered making out with Dean in that very spot, but it was soon snuffed out by what had caused that dark colored stain only hours later. Images flashed unbidden through my mind. Blood running in rivulets down walls, through dirt, and pooled in troughs, rust invading my nose when we opened the door, the glossy sheen in Big John’s eyes as he stared blankly into nothingness—it all made me want to hurl. Leaning my temple against the board beside me, I closed my eyes and tried to will away the horrors of the last few days.

A few weeks ago, I was content to survive alone in my little corner of the world. I was free of expectations and even fear for the most part. The only monsters I feared were strangers, and it’d been so long since I’d seen anyone that I seriously wondered how few of us were left. It was just me and my animals, and we were okay, maybe not especially happy, but we were doing fairly well all things considered. So, what happened? How did it all go so wrong? How did I go from peaceful solitude to horrible chaos?

The door at the end of the hall slid open, and Dean stepped inside. “Di? You in here?”

“Up here.”

He walked over to the spot directly below me and stuffed his hands in his pockets before craning his head to look up at me. “I woke up and you were gone. Kinda freaked out ‘til Cas said you’d headed this way.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to wake him.”

“That’s okay. Dude’s a pretty light sleeper.” He kicked at the dirt in front of him, the toe of his boot scuffing and sending a fine puff of the stuff into the air. He wasn’t leaving any time soon.

I sighed and leaned into the beam a little more, wrapping my arms tightly around my middle. “What are you doing here, Dean?”

He shrugged. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” When I didn’t answer, he huffed and started climbing the ladder leading to the loft. “I’m too old for this,” Dean grumbled as he pulled himself up onto the same rafter I was currently occupying. Once he was straddling it, he inched his way closer until he was less than a foot from me. 

“You’re sweating,” I said, glancing at his pallid features. Screwing up my face, I shook my head. “Seriously, you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Dean swallowed and nodded quickly. “Fine, I’m fine.”

“Dean…”

“Look, I don’t like heights, okay?” he snapped.

“Then why are you up here? Get down before you fall!”

Green eyes flashed as they locked onto me. “Because you don’t have to be alone right now, and I—well, I was worried about you.” He swayed a bit when he said it, and I put a steadying arm on his shoulder while he gripped the board tighter.

“Dean, honey, I’m touched. Really, I am, but you’re going to get yourself killed up here.” I smirked and nodded down towards his waist. “Wouldn’t want you to fall and break a hip.”

“Shut up,” he huffed, fighting a smile.

“Seriously,” I told him. “Did you know the elderly have been known to break bones just by standing? You’re a walking accident waiting to happen, my friend.”

Dean was full on grinning now, and I couldn’t help but push him a little further.

“Might as well go ahead and stick you in a nursing home, dude. I’ll get you some of those old man house shoes and a robe, maybe a prescription for Viagra in case you come across a blue-haired biddy with a bunch of money.”

“Or a hot nurse,” Dean laughed. 

“I doubt you’ll find one to take you up on the offer, but you’re welcome to try I guess.”

He leaned towards me and lowered his voice. “Well see, here’s the thing. I kinda already found a nurse. She’s hot, smart, funny, strong, has great taste in music, and she lets me cook for her. What else could I want?”

Lowering my eyes, I just smiled softly and shook my head. “You’re insane.”

“She’s all of that, and yet still has no idea how awesome she is.” He raised his brows and pointed a finger at me. “That’s insane.”

I glanced up at him, taking in the way the light filtered down through cracks in the roof and highlighted his features despite the dust motes floating about. Seriously, how was he not a model before the world fell apart? He belonged in Vogue, not the apocalypse. I wanted to lose myself in the moment, take a mental snapshot to stow away for analyzing later, but letting go—letting my guard down—was never really my style.

“What are you doing here?” I asked again, my voice a whisper.

“Well,” he began ticking items off on his fingers, “I went to pee, got chased by a bunch of zombies, almost died, got rescued, and then I went and fell for my heroine like some schmuck out of a chick flick.”

I huffed a laugh and closed my eyes, leaning my forehead onto his shoulder as the weight pressing down on me became just a bit more bearable. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“This. Everything.” Dean pressed a kiss to my temple, and I melted into the feeling, my walls not falling but definitely lowering a bit. “Can we just hide up here for a while?” I asked after a few beats. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”  
_____________

Cas was seated on the porch steps when we approached a while later. I noticed he was looking from the ground, to the distance, to the sky in measured increments and then repeating the cycle. It was odd, but so was the man himself, though I guess anyone who’d survived this long was bound to be a little bit off.

When we got closer, Dean squeezed my hand briefly before letting go. Leaning against one of the poles beside his friend, he crossed his arms and asked, “What’s up, Cas?”

Cas squinted up at the sky a moment before speaking. “I know you’ve both been a bit distracted this morning, but tell me,” he gestured out to the yard, “does anything seem off to you?”

Dean and I locked eyes before following Cas’s gaze.

It was noticeably warmer outside than the last few days, and the land showed it. Birds flitted about to and from dripping trees while muddy puddles of melting snow gathered beneath their branches. Everything glittered under the sun, and I squinted up at the unusually cloudless sky and back to the yard. For all the snow that had accumulated during the storm, it was melting off at an alarming rate.

“Do you see it?” Cas asked me.

I nodded and looked at Dean. A scowl had settled into the lines of his face and was growing deeper with each passing second. I could practically see the gears turning in his brain. “This isn’t normal,” I told him. “Not around here.”

“You said the same thing about the storm,” he muttered.

“That’s because it’s not.” Cas stood and picked at a strip of peeling cedar on the pole across from Dean. He squinted down at it, examining the piece before rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “Neither the snowstorm or the sudden uptick in temperature are what you’d call ‘natural occurrences.’”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. Cas shrugged and stuffed both hands in his pockets. “You don’t think it was him, do you?”

“I don’t see why not. You remember how Raphael was about thunderstorms.”

“Okay, but why would he wanna send out random blizzards? What’s the point?”

“There had to be a reason for it. Perhaps it posed as cover of some sort. From what you told me last night, the weather certainly limited your activities the last couple of days, kept you confined to the cabin for the most part.”

“Cover,” Dean murmured. He began nodding. “Cover. Yeah, okay, but for what? What did he have…” His eyes landed on me, and they widened as his voice trailed off. “Son of a bitch.”

“Dean?” He reached for my hand before pulling me into his side and wrapping an arm around my waist. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, his brows furrowed. “If Lucifer knows I’m here, then what are the chances he also sent those vamps after me? The first two were talking about him before the fight. What if he’s got monsters on the payroll, too?”

Cas squinted and tilted his head a bit. “It’s definitely possible,” he said. “The storm—if he indeed created it—would have pinned you down for days until they could close in, and those that attacked weren’t nearly as starved as others we’ve seen recently. He could be offering them food in return for hunting you. After all, you’re warded against demons and angels, but we can’t do anything about vampires.”

Dean swallowed and nodded, the motion tight. He then glanced briefly at the rolling clouds above us before dropping his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Sighing, he opened them again and stepped away from me. I watched him walk away and head out across the yard, shoulders hunched and head bowed against the sudden breeze as the chill permeated more than just my clothing. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmured as Dean passed the edge of the barn and kept going.

I tore my eyes away from his retreating figure and looked to the man beside me. “What?”

Cas seemed to flounder for a second before blinking at me. “It’s an apology. Are you not familiar with it?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t understand what you’re apologizing for.”

“The future.”

Cas turned and headed into the cabin, and after a few beats of confusion, I followed. He was flitting between the kitchen and living areas gathering the remnants of breakfast and generally tidying up the space when I walked in. It was odd. He’d barely been there a day, and already Cas was making himself at home.

“What do you mean, Cas?” Ugh. The way I said it sounded way too much like Forrest Gump on that bridge.

He had been adding soap to the sink full of water in front of him but paused at the sound of my voice. Cas’s shoulders slumped, and he turned to face me. “I don’t—” He shook his head with a sigh.

“Cas?”

Silence stretched between us, prompting him to finally look at me, and I wish he hadn’t. Cas was leaning against the counter with his hands resting lightly on either side of his hips, the dish rag long forgotten in the sink, and his blue eyes were filled with pity. “Diana,” he said softly, “there’s something you should know…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. If you can, leave a comment below to let me know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

After his ominous comment, Cas had me sit at my own kitchen table before he would agree to deliver whatever news he had, but frankly, if he didn’t stop pacing and start talking, I was going to start throwing things. Unfortunately for him, I’d probably start with my chair.

“Cas,” I warned, my voice low. 

He froze, a hand still buried in his unruly hair, and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but you deserve to know if you’re considering leaving with Dean and I.”

“So get on with it then. The anticipation is only gonna make it worse, you know.”

He glanced over, and I waved to the seat across from me. You’d think it was an electric chair by the way Cas was eyeing it. I waved at the chair again, this time with more of a flourish, and he cracked a small but uneasy smile before sitting down. 

“Breathe,” I reminded him gently. “This conversation was your idea, remember?”

He nodded and stared down at where his hands were clasped loosely on the table in front of him. “You have to understand, Dean is a remarkable person…”

“But?”

“But…he’s a man on a mission.”

I leaned forward, urging him to continue. “Okay, and? What’s his mission?”

Cas shook his head lightly and furrowed his brows, finally glancing up at me. “You won’t be able to stop him. Dean, he’s trying to kill Lucifer, but it’s a suicide mission. He won’t come back from it.”

“Why would he do that?” I asked. “Is he stupid or something? He can’t just undo the apocalypse.”

“He’s not trying to ‘undo’ anything—"

“Never use air quotes in my kitchen again.”

“—He’s trying to save his brother.”

I narrowed my eyes at the man in front of me. He was supposedly Dean’s best friend. Surely he knew what happened, right? “Cas, Sam’s dead. The Devil killed him when all this started.”

Cas shook his head, his face grim. “Sam isn’t dead,” he said slowly. “He’s Lucifer’s vessel.”

My mouth opened slightly as I tried to process exactly what Cas said, but my brain kept shorting out. There’s no way I heard him right. Cas was obviously deranged. Dean told me Sam died. I heard the words plain as day, and he was heartbroken over it. He wouldn’t lie about that…would he?

“What did you say?” I managed after the silence became too much.

Cas began massaging his left wrist with his right thumb, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Dean’s brother has been possessed by the Devil for more than a decade. He…he was supposed to take control and jump in the cage, but Lucifer was too strong. If I know Lucifer, and I think I do, he’s been keeping Sam on lockdown but still close enough to the surface that he can watch everything that happens without having the ability to stop any of it.”

“So Sam didn’t die?”

“No.”

“And Dean is…what? Delusional?”

“He’s spent the last eight years trying to find a way to save his brother. Ideally that would entail forcibly expelling Lucifer from his vessel, but realistically the only thing we might actually succeed in accomplishing is killing them both.”

“Kill Sam? Dean is trying to kill his own brother?” My heart broke even as I said it.

Cas shrugged. “He doesn’t really have a choice.”

The door opened, and I swiveled in my seat.

Dean stopped with his jacket half off and stared at us. “Well you guys are chipper,” he deadpanned. “Who died?”

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Apparently no one.”

He slowly finished removing his jacket and folded it over his arm. “What are you talking about?”

“Sam?” Dean’s face paled at the mention of his brother. “Your brother is the Devil?”

“Well that isn’t accurate,” Cas said. “He’s been possessed by—”

“Shut it, Cas.” Dean snapped. His tone didn’t leave room for argument, and Cas didn’t push it. “Di, I—”

“Forgot? Lied to me? What, Dean? Why didn’t you tell me the truth about what happened with the archangels that day?”

His jaw ticked as we stared at each other, but eventually Dean wiped a hand down his face. “Let’s take a walk.”

“You just had a walk.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s take a short walk then.”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit,” I snapped while brushing past him and out the door. I could feel the anger coursing through me, singing in my veins. I didn’t want to hear lies, didn’t want to think that maybe most of what he’d told me was a bunch of crap, but the trust between us had been broken, and it was getting harder and harder not to feel foolish for trusting him in the first place.

Dean followed me across the yard and into the barn, watching from the half-open door as I gathered a few baskets without so much as acknowledging his presence. He wouldn’t go unnoticed for long though. As I tried to squeeze past him again, Dean blocked my path with a forearm across my chest and a hand on the doorframe. I stood there silently fuming, my jaw clenched while seriously debating how difficult it’d be to forcibly remove him from my path.

“At least let me explain.” My eyes flicked up to meet his quickly before I slapped his arm away and strode on out. 

“I want the truth,” I said over my shoulder without breaking stride and without waiting for him to catch up. He did eventually and stood beside me in the garden but didn’t join me in the mud as I scoured the dying plants for whatever was salvageable from the year’s harvest, like he knew I needed to keep my hands busy, like I had to do it by myself just as I always had because it was the only way to keep from throttling him. Dean stayed silent at first, and I looked up at him expectantly. Go ahead, I thought. Now’s your only chance.

He looked away and then at his feet. “My brother was—is—a vessel. Apparently, it’s something you’re born into, something to do with bloodlines or whatever, but to hold an archangel a person has to be like freaky strong, and to hold an archangel without them burning through your body, it has to be fated.”

“Fated,” I repeated, my voice dripping with skepticism.

“Yeah, uh,” Dean gestured with his hands, “like, ‘this is the prophecy, so you must obey.’ That kind of fated.”

My muscles loosened a bit as shock took over. “So he was always supposed to be possessed by the Devil?”

“That’s what they kept telling us.”

“Who?”

“The angels. They were pretty dickish about it.”

Angels were dicks? Okay. “Uh-huh. But why him? Why S—your brother?”

“Because Lucifer was supposed to fight Michael, brother against brother, and apparently God has a thing for irony.”

“How’s that ironic? It’s not like you were—” Oh. “You were Michael’s vessel,” I whispered. “What happened?”

Dean furrowed his brows and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. When he spoke, his voice was broken, choked, forced out. “Half-brother we didn’t know about said yes. Michael wasn’t as strong in Adam, but he was tired of waiting for me to give in. The only reason my brother said yes to Lucifer was because he thought he could trap him. He thought he could win. I didn’t, I mean we never thought, I didn’t think he—he’d…”

I pushed up from my crouch and grabbed him by the belt loops. “Obviously your brother knew what he was doing, Dean.”

“But if I hadn’t let him, or if I’d said yes instead before they got to Adam—”

“If he was anywhere nearly as stubborn as you, he would’ve found a way to make it happen.” I ducked down to catch his eye, but when that didn’t work I grabbed his chin gently and forced him to look at me. “It’s not your fault the world went to shit. That being said, I get why you’re going after the Devil. If it was you, well, I’d probably do the same thing. What I don’t understand is why you’d lie to me about it.”

Dean pulled out of my grasp, and his face fell into a mask. “I didn’t lie to you. He’s dead.”

“You don’t know that. Cas seems pretty sure the exact opposite is true.”

“Might as well be dead.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Then Lucifer won’t leave him sane! I saw what was left of Raphael’s vessel. He was nothing but a limp body over a puddle of drool, and I can’t leave my brother like that. Killing him is a mercy.”

“To who?” I asked. “Sam?” Dean flinched at his brother’s name, but I kept going. “What if you expel Lucifer, and your brother’s fine? You could get him back, Dean! Isn’t it worth it to at least try?”

“I don’t—” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at me, and I kind of wish he hadn’t if only to save me from seeing the raw pain in his eyes. “We’ve been looking for a way to fix all this for years. At first it was about saving Sam, but then it was about finding anything that’d kill them both, but there’s nothing out there, Di. We can’t do anything.”

“Then why do you keep looking?”

He held his hands out to his sides. “What else am I gonna do? I’ve got a whole group of people that think I have all the answers. They’re all depending on me to save the world, and I’ve got nothing. It’s a pipedream, but without something to look forward to they’ll go nuts and get themselves killed.”

My heart broke for him. Here was this guy who’d lost so much and had had the weight of the world on his shoulders for so long, but even after the world ended he still couldn’t get any rest. He couldn’t get any peace. Something in that last statement struck me, though. Maybe it was the way he said it, but it was almost like he was talking about himself instead of his group. Was that how he coped, by throwing himself into this mission? Why not do something more conventional? Then it hit me.

“Cas…,” I mumbled, “he said something earlier…”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, the guy doesn’t know how to shut up around people once he latches onto you.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s…he said you’ve spent the last eight years looking for a way to save your brother, but it’s been almost eleven since it happened…and then last night we were talking about coping mechanisms, and…” I straightened. “Dean, what happened at the start? What did you do for the first few years after the virus broke out?”

His eyes hardened. “You don’t wanna know.”

“No, I do.”

“Di…”

I fisted my left hand in the front of his shirt and jabbed a finger towards the house. “Either you tell me, or I go right back inside and ask Cas. I’m like ninety percent sure he’ll tell me, but I’d really like you to be the one to do it.”

“It was supposed to be Cas!”

I flinched, hard, immediately releasing him and stumbling back. After all, angry Dean Winchester was pretty damn scary. Dean must have realized what I was thinking because he stopped and held his hands up in a decidedly non-threatening gesture. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It’s just that, it wasn’t supposed to go down like that. I wasn’t supposed to…to…”

“Become an addict?”

I will neither confirm or deny screaming like a little girl. “Jeez! Warn me next time you sneak up like that!”

Cas stepped out from a row of corn and crossed his arms. He apologized, but his mischievous grin said he was anything but sorry. “I heard Dean snap and thought I should come check to see if you’d killed him yet, but it’s good to have you confirm my element of surprise remains intact. Now, as I was saying before you interrupted,” he continued dryly, “Dean became reliant on prescription drugs in order to cope with the loss of his brother.”

Dean shifted awkwardly, his attempt at a glare failing miserably as nerves crept across his face. He opened his mouth to speak—maybe with a rebuttal, I couldn’t tell—before thinking better of it and pressing his lips into a thin line. The two men stared at each other for a while before finally Dean sighed and wiped a hand down his face.

“I wasn’t really a—” Cas raised a brow at him, and Dean’s jaw ticked before he tried again. “When the angels tried to get me to say yes, they got…creative. Zechariah was the one in charge of the deal, and he had a thing for tampering with reality, so he pulled some Marty McFly bullshit and threw me into a future where my brother gave in, but I didn’t.” He huffed a laugh. “Future me was such a dick, and most likely a raging alcoholic—not that I blame him, dealing with the Devil and everyone coming to him with all their problems, I mean hell, that’s what my life is basically like now—but Cas was the one popping pills like crazy. I always assumed that the two of them had gotten high together at some point, but future me was able to walk away from the stuff, so why couldn’t I, right? I just needed something to take the edge off, something that’d help me forget, just for a little while. Then a little while became every day, and every day became twice a day, and pretty soon I was staying stoned more often than not.”

I reached out, lacing our fingers together. “That other you…Dean, he was a totally different person shaped by different circumstances. I can’t begin to imagine what losing your brother felt like, and I understand why you’d want to escape from that, but that stuff’s dangerous.” I ducked down to catch his eye. “You know that, don’t you?”

“It almost killed him,” Cas murmured. He’d lost the playful smirk and appeared to be lost in a memory, eyes dancing across patterns only he could see in the mud at his feet. “He’s lucky I found him in time and could still help to a certain degree. Otherwise…” He swallowed and shook his head, staring off in the distance. 

I wanted to ask what he meant, wanted to know what could steal the color from the guy’s face like that and make Dean look like he was hoping the earth would swallow him whole, but I figured it was a heavy discussion, something we didn’t need to try and deal with on top of all the other revelations delivered that day. Instead I chose to direct their attention towards something less stressful than the current conversation. 

“Well,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “I’d love to continue reminiscing, but I’ve had almost zero luck out here, and I need at least one thing to go right today, so let’s try something different.”

Dean straightened. “What?”

I smirked and patted his chest lightly. “Relax.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, bitches! I've been sitting on this chapter for a couple of weeks now but haven't had the opportunity to post until today. Hopefully the wait was worth it. I know I've been excited to delve more into Dean's past and find out exactly what went down after Stull, and I feel like we're slowly but surely learning who he is.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

I led them along a winding path covered by a dense canopy of trees. Dean stayed on edge as we walked, his hand gripping the machete he absolutely refused to leave the cabin without despite everyone having knives tucked away on their person, eyes raking over the shadows, picking them apart while his head jerked toward every sound. Cas was the exact opposite. Where Dean was a coiled spring ready to jump into action, Cas was loose, relaxed, easy. His hands were tucked in his pockets, eyes on the branches overhead when they weren’t rolling away Dean’s behavior.

The first sign we were close was the roar of rushing water. The trees began to thin, and the shadows receded as a thick carpet of grass gave way to a beach of smooth river stones. The sounds became louder, and the air became warmer. Finally, after a good thirty-minute hike uphill, we’d made it. The view caught Dean so off guard he stumbled to a stop beside me. I looped an arm through his and grinned up at him while pulling him close. I didn’t come out this way often because of all the work keeping my home running required, so it was a treat when I did go, but sharing it with the guys…well, that was special all on its own.

It was nothing short of a deciduous oasis. A small river cut a swift path through the woods before plunging over the side of a steep rock face. At the bottom of the falls the riverbed widened into a large, shallow pool that lapped gently at the rocks at our feet. I tilted my face towards the sun, closing my eyes as I breathed in the fresh air, taking just a moment to appreciate our surroundings and the peace I drew from them. It was nature at her finest, pure, untouched by the modern world even before things went to shit. Dean gripped my hand tightly, bringing me back to him, and pointed to where Cas was already wading into the freezing water.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia, dumbass!” he called.

“Screw off, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, don’t come crying to me when you need someone to warm you up, cause I ain’t it!” Cas flipped him off in reply, and Dean chuckled under his breath. “The guy has zero sense of self-preservation. He actually trapped the archangel Raphael in a ring of holy fire not too long after we met. The whole time he’s smarting off, acting a fool, and I’m standing there practically shitting myself thinking, this is it. We’re gonna die. This idiot is gonna get us torn to pieces!”

“What happened?”

Dean grinned, the expression lighting his entire face. “Cas and I left him there.”

I shook my head at him in awe while following him onto a rocky outcropping overlooking the water. “You’re an idiot.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “I’ve been called worse. Let’s see how long it takes him to figure out he has to walk back in wet jeans.”

I nodded thoughtfully, a finger on my chin, and said, “Yeah. We could do that, or…”

“Or…?”

The shock and betrayal on Dean’s face as he fell backwards will forever be seared into my brain.

I doubled over with laughter as he came up sputtering and spewing a slew of profanities, my side aching as I tried and failed to catch my breath. Even Cas, who had been slipping lazily through the pool like the cold didn’t faze him a bit, stopped to shoot Dean a smirk.

“You know,” Cas started, a condescending lilt to his voice as he slicked his hair back off his forehead, “you’re going to catch pneumonia.”

“Can it!” Dean barked while dragging himself onto the bank.

“Just don’t ask me to be your personal space heater when—”

“CAS!”

Cas shut up but shared a knowing smile with me while Dean began climbing back up the rocks.

“Oh my gosh!” I laughed. God, I was all but rolling as he stalked towards me, but the murderous gleam in Dean’s eye only served to make it more hilarious. “You should’ve seen your face!”

“Yeah? Did it happen to look anything like yours?”

“What?”

Dean scooped me up and tossed me into the pool, and I shrieked and flailed until I hit the water with a splash. 

“You looked like you could use a bath!” he called from his perch when I surfaced.

“Touché!” I leaned back and floated for a second, my limbs loosening up as I became accustomed to the temperature, before yelling, “You getting back in here or what?”

Grinning, Dean squatted down on the ledge and shook his head. “Someone’s gotta watch over your asses. Seriously though, don’t stay in too long or you’ll get sick.”

It really wasn’t as cold as I’d expected, but I appreciated his concern all the same. 

Eventually Cas and I (reluctantly) pulled ourselves from the water. He ended up stripping down to his boxers and sitting with his legs crossed atop a grassy knoll, seemingly meditating with his face turned towards the warm sun, and I returned to the outcropping where Dean was keeping vigil—he’d since settled into a seated position with his legs dangling over the edge—to stretch out on my back and just be.

It was a nice change from the stress of the last several days. I was constantly on edge, my nerves fraying bit by bit as the supposedly safe bubble I’d built myself popped and reminded me of the monsters that continued to plague the world. But laying there, sunning myself on a rock while someone else kept an eye out for potential threats for once, I was able to let go, let my guard down, to give someone else that control I’d fought so hard to obtain and then hang onto bitterly after…

I forced the dark thoughts away and focused on the song stuck in my head, on the rough surface beneath my fingertips, on the drops of water rolling towards the back of my scalp, on the different kind of safety I’d found with Dean. I wasn’t free from danger, necessarily, but I trusted him to keep me alive when it mattered, to fight for me, and wow, that realization alone, it—it felt…good.

“What’re you humming?” Dean asked quietly, snapping me out of my reverie. 

“What?” I hadn’t even realized I was making any sound at all, let alone humming, and that was dangerous, a testament to how at ease I was in his presence. 

He smiled this soft little thing, a barely there curve of his lips within the growing scruff on his jaw, over his shoulder before turning back to where Cas was still meditating below us. “That song, you keep going over the same part. I was just curious what it is.”

“Oh, uh, it’s ‘Que Sera, Sera.’ I know it’s old and all, but I’ve always liked the message, and the woman who sings it has a beautiful voice.”

“Doris Day.” He nodded once. “Yeah, I thought I recognized it from somewhere. The crappy motels we always stayed in usually only showed old stuff on TV, so I’ve seen ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much’ more than a few times. I disagree with you on the message though.”

I pushed up on my elbows. “Why not?” I wasn’t looking for an argument, just genuinely curious.

“’Whatever will be, will be’? No thanks. It’s like telling you to roll over when bad shit happens, and it’s bull. You’ve gotta fight and keep fighting no matter what.”

“Nooo.” I scooted over until I was sitting beside him. Reaching up, I brushed a bit of hair off his forehead as I spoke. “We can’t control what happens, but we can control our reaction, and if at the end of the day things don’t turn out the way you’d hoped, it’s saying you should find peace with however the cards lay.”

“You really believe that?” Dean asked, eyeing me.

“Life is what you make it, so yeah. I kinda have to. This,” I said, twirling a finger in the air, “is how I’ve made peace with the world. I can’t change the past no matter how much I want to, but I can try to make the best out of my circumstances.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, staring for just a moment too long before huffing. “Yeah, well, I still think it’s a load of crap.”

I barked a laugh and looped my arm through his. “Okay, tough guy. Play it how you want, but just remember what I said. You deserve a little peace of your own, Dean. Be kind enough to give it to yourself.”

He furrowed his brow, eyes dancing across my face looking for…something. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to find there, but whatever it was, Dean seemed to soften some, and then he cupped my face with one hand and leaned in, pressing his mouth gently to mine at first, giving me time to back away or refuse or whatever, and then with more insistence, opening up and sweeping his tongue across the seam of my lips before sliding inside. There was something there in the way he held me, something heavier than usual, a desperate need, a feeling that I couldn’t quite place and didn’t have the ability to sort through at the moment because he was everywhere at once, invading my senses and doing that thing he did that made it hard to breathe or move or think—not that I wanted to because wow this kiss was so different than the playful stuff we’d mostly shared before. It was more, and I—I wanted, I mean, I needed—

“Fuck,” I breathed as we broke apart. Dean was still so close, the left side of his face hidden in shadow while the sun highlighted each and every freckle and piece of stubble on the right. I wondered what it’s be like to press my tongue right there in that little hollow under his jaw and—

“You good?”

I laughed and shook my head a bit to clear the fog. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just, we should probably be getting back. Lots to do.”

Dean hummed deep in his throat before turning and shielding his eyes from the sun. “Cas! Wrap it up, man! We’re leaving!”

“You’re undoing everything I just accomplished, you know,” Cas said while brushing off the back of his jeans. He turned and frowned up at us. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find my center these days?”

“Yeah, yeah, just get your shit. You can get back to ohm-ing at the cabin.”  
_____________

“You know, I was thinking,” I said while finger-combing my hair in front of the bathroom mirror later that night. I’d been replaying the events of the day while I bathed, thinking of the banter between us, how Cas and I should’ve been shivering instead of basking in the sunlight after our swim, so I had opened the door to talk to the guys about it while I finished getting ready for bed. 

“Uh-oh,” Dean laughed. “That’s never good.”

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “The water really wasn’t as cold as it should’ve been what with the runoff from all the snow and everything, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized something. I don’t think it snowed up there at all.”

There was the sound of a book snapping shut, and then Dean appeared in the mirror, leaning against the doorframe. “Why do you say that?”

“Think about it for a second. That water should’ve been freezing, and yeah, so maybe the snow didn’t kill all the grass up there, but there should have at least been water dripping from the trees and mucking up the ground everywhere just like it did here, but there wasn’t. It wasn’t even muddy.” I met his eyes in the reflection and shrugged. “It’s probably nothing, but it’s been bugging me all afternoon.”

“No, you’re right to trust your instincts. I’ll talk to Cas, see what he makes of it.”

“I thought he was in there with you. Where’d he go?”

“Outside. He likes to watch the stars when it’s clear out.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched while I continued my routine. “You get used to his quirks after a while.”

“Hey, I happen to like his quirks,” I retorted. 

Dean scrunched his nose in mock disgust. “He’s a little weird.”

“He’s unique.” I turned and slipped my arms around his waist. Looking up at him, I rested my chin on his chest. “Besides, you know you love him.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah. Cas wouldn’t be Cas if he wasn’t a little weird.”

“Unique.”

“Whatever. I’m getting kinda tired of you correcting me all the time, missy.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I pushed up onto my toes until our mouths were just an inch apart. Dean was watching me closely, eyes half-lidded while his smile went from teasing to something softer. “Tough,” I whispered. “I don’t plan on changing anytime soon.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“No?”

“Nope. I love you just the way you are.”

He closed the distance then, his lips meeting mine and backing me into the doorframe. Dean groaned softly, rolling his hips, pressing them against mine, and it broke loose something inside me, remnants of the feelings from our earlier kiss coming back full force. I fisted the edges of his flannel in my hands and pulled him with me while walking backwards to the bedroom. We stumbled through the door, and I pushed at the shirt, edging it off his shoulders so he was left in nothing but a short-sleeved tee. He broke away, eyes flickering back and forth across my face, but I just bit my lip and grinned sheepishly.

“Di?”

“You know how I said I wanted to take it slow?” I asked. He swallowed and nodded. “Can we maybe not do that tonight?”

That devilish tongue peeked out to wet his lips. “Are you sure?”

I ran a hand through his hair and took in his wide eyes—bright, even in the limited light the oil lamp on my nightstand provided—and kiss swollen lips. I couldn’t wait to find out how he’d look above me, head bowed, eyes squeezed shut, face flushed, and lips parted as he neared his peak. My stomach flipped with excitement. “Yeah,” I told him. “I want this.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them, he held up a finger and lowered his voice. “The usual rules stand though. You better tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable or change your mind.”

I sighed. “Dean—”

“No. Dammit, Di, this is serious. I need to know you’re with me and that this isn’t some spur of the moment thing.”

“It’s not.” I cupped his face and looked him hard in the eye. “I swear I’ll speak up if I get uncomfortable, okay?”

Dean searched my face for a long moment, his jaw ticking. “Okay.”

Then he was on me.

To say it had been a while since my last partner would be an understatement, but still, I didn’t remember anyone ever being so gentle while maintaining a starving man’s level of hunger in his gaze. I couldn’t name another man that’d taken his time undressing me, placing kisses along each new stretch of exposed skin before moving on, or one that left a burning sensation in the wake of his touch. Dean was soft as he mouthed at me, strong when he laid me back across the mattress, and easy but determined with every new move he made. He kept looking at me like he was the one simultaneously dying and being revived with every kiss. Calloused hands reverently traced my curves. Broken gasps escaped parted lips. Backs arched. Muscles clenched. Fingers clung.

And fuck if there wasn’t so much I’d missed seeing that first night I helped him into the tub. Constellations of freckles were scattered everywhere I looked. They intermingled with the tattoos I now knew to be wards—a flaming star below his left clavicle that kept demons out and several lines of script in an unfamiliar language above his right hip to hide him from angels—as well as old and new scars. Most were just what he said “came with the life” of hunting, scratches and slashes and a bullet hole on his left shoulder, but there was one in particular that stood out among the rest and frankly terrified me.

I came across it while kissing my way down his left forearm, my eyes fluttering open briefly once I reached his wrist. I gasped, and Dean’s head perked up from their trek towards my naval. “What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

I sat up and took his arm gently in my hand. I turned it over and traced the thin, silvery line that stretched a good four inches from the base of his palm with my thumb. It was so faint you’d miss it unless you were looking right at it, but the message was clear. I shook my head and swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Why?”

“Remember when Cas said he almost didn’t find me in time?” He nodded towards his wrist. “That’s what he meant.”

“Shit, Dean. I—” I bit my lip as a few tears escaped the corners of my eyes.

“Hey, hey, no.” He leaned forward and took my face in his hands before swiping the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Don’t do that. It was a long time ago, and I’m over it. Really.”

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly, burying my face in the crook of his neck and taking comfort in the warmth of his body. “I’m glad you’re still here,” I whispered. 

“Me, too.”  
_____________

I woke up sometime later, our bodies facing each other in a tangle of limbs in the dark, and lightly traced the naked contours of Dean’s chest and shoulders, his right bicep, his cheekbones (his brow furrowed, and he pouted in the most adorable way before burrowing deeper into the pillow when I touched his face), his hand. The man had, quite literally, fallen into my life long after I’d given up on humanity and shown me that not only could some people still be trusted, but also that I could love someone with my whole heart, cracks and all. It filled me with a strange but potent mixture of hope and awe and gut-wrenching terror.

I felt a tear run down the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face into the pillow. “Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo interesting chapter, huh?
> 
> Thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism are--as always--welcome.  
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new chapter! It would've been up sooner, but I was participating in GISH last week, and it took all of my extra time. Haven't heard of it? Go to GISH.com and read up. Hopefully you can join the hunt next year! Seriously, it's a ton of fun, my daughter loves it, and we're doing weird and crazy things while making the world a better place. This year we raised $230,000 in three days for the kids over in Laos. Three days. Gishers did that.

I was washing mason jars the next day when I felt Dean slip his arms around me and hook his chin over my left shoulder. I leaned into his touch, grinning when his scruff scratched at my cheek.

“You work too much, Di,” he murmured. “What’re you up to now?”

“Gotta get these jars clean.”

He nuzzled my neck before brushing his lips across the sensitive flesh behind my ear. I shivered, thinking of all the other places they’d been. “What for?”

“Mmm, we’ve gone through a lot of canned stuff the last couple of days. I don’t want the mess to build up and draw pests.” Dean hummed quietly, the sound rumbling up from deep in his chest. “I’m gonna show Cas the bee hive later,” I continued.

“Weirdos.”

I scooped some suds into my hand and smeared them onto his face and neck, laughing at his flat expression. “Who’s the weirdo now, huh?”

Dean grabbed a towel, fighting a smile. “Still you,” he smirked while drying his skin. “I make anything look good.”

Raising my brows, I gave him a good once over before nodding in agreement. “You’re not wrong.”

“Nope.” He said and began drying the jars for me. Ducking his head to glance out the window above the sink, his brow furrowed. “You sure you’ll get anything?”

I sighed and bit my lip. “We’re not going to collect honey. I need to check on the bees and make sure they survived the storm. That weather came on fast, and I’m worried about them not adapting quick enough to the change. It’d be a shame to lose the resource.”

“Is that safe?”

“I’m a bee charmer, remember? Ya gotta trust me.” I said while hip-checking him.

Dean shook his head, a smile on his face that caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners. Oh man, I was such a goner for that smile. Hell, I was a goner for the whole package. 

“How about you?” I asked, handing him another jar. “Got any plans for today?”

“Cas brought my bow with him from camp, so I thought I might go hunting.”

“You setting up somewhere or plan on walking most of the time?”

He tossed the towel over his shoulder and turned to face me before crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. “What do you suggest?”

“Go south. There’s an open field about a mile out that’s usually pretty good for deer this time of year. If you get one small enough to carry back, I’ll slaughter it and cook some steaks tonight and smoke the rest.”

“Mm, a girl after my own heart.”

I winked. “You know it, cowboy.”  
_____________

Cas and I were walking back to the cabin in silence, punctuated only by the sounds of undergrowth parting around us, when I decided to ask him something. The bees hadn’t made it; their hive appeared to have frozen solid and was dripping water when we arrived, the inside filled with dead bee carcasses—something neither of us had ever seen or even thought possible—and I needed a distraction from the hopelessness of my thoughts. “So, uh, yesterday after our swim, were you, you know, meditating?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “Okay.”

I pushed on but could feel his eyes on me for several minutes.

“You’re curious,” he said after a while.

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe. I’m open to it anyway.”

Cas stopped, and I turned to face him. He was standing a few feet away from me, his head tilted to the side, eyes wide and curious. “Would you like to try it?”

“Uh, I guess?”

“May I ask why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, I just—there’s a lot going on in my head right now, and I need some peace and quiet, you know?”

The corner of his mouth pulled up, and he scanned the surrounding trees before dropping to the ground in a cross-legged position. Tucking his toes under each knee, he beckoned me to take the space in front of him with the wave of a hand.

“Now,” he said after I’d gotten situated, “I want you to close your eyes.”

“Out here? Are you nuts?”

Cas chuckled. “I’ll watch over you, Diana, but you need to trust me. Can you do that?”

That was a loaded question if I’d ever heard one, but Dean trusted the guy more than anyone else in the world, and I trusted Dean, so…

“Good. Let’s begin by breathing. Relax and let each breath flow through you naturally at its own pace. Whenever you find your thoughts wandering, note the subject and then release it into the universe.”

“Like fishing,” I murmured.

“I fail to see how this relates to fishing. You’re supposed to let go of your thoughts, not fillet and eat them.”

I opened one eye to peek at him in confusion. “I meant catch and release, Cas.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked vaguely taken aback, and then I was the one tilting my head at him. “Catch, and release. Exactly. Allow yourself a moment to appreciate the thought before letting it go. Observe the way your body moves as you breathe, how the oxygen flows into your lungs, enriching the blood pumped throughout your body following the pathways your arteries and veins take. Go deeper. Feel the beat of your heart, steady, determined, keeping perfect time with your breaths.”

I took his words to heart, and bit by bit, my muscles relaxed and my mind cleared. Whenever something caught my attention—birds chirping, animals scampering across the forest floor, the feel of my pants becoming damp from sitting on the ground—I’d take note of it and move on, refocusing on my breathing. Cas’s voice grew more and more faint, lulling me into a deep relaxation, before eventually lapsing into silence altogether. Everything just kind of faded away.

And then I heard Cas move.

My eyes snapped open to see him in a crouch, blue eyes focused on something over my left shoulder and hand gripping a long, narrow blade. I tensed up and went to move for my own weapon, but he stopped me with a gentle hand on my wrist. 

“Just an infected,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of it.”

He flipped the blade so that he was holding it by the tip and whistled softly. After a few moments I heard the tell-tale shuffling and growling of an infected behind me. I turned and spotted a floppy-haired kid not more than twelve years old in a tattered powder blue and yellow basketball uniform. Something brown was smeared across his mouth, and a centipede slithered up from the collar of his jersey before disappearing into the hair behind his ear. He hadn’t seen me yet, so his eyes were focused only on Cas as his body jerked forward, but quick as a whip Cas threw the blade and nailed it in the forehead with a sickening squelch, and the kid went down.

My stomach rolled as Cas went to retrieve his blade. I just couldn’t get the kid’s chubby face out of my head. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to swallow back the bile as sweat broke out on my forehead and neck, but then I heard the slick unsheathing of the blade from the kid’s skull, and I pitched forward spewing my breakfast onto the grass. I was vaguely aware of Cas hurrying back to me and his hand rubbing circles on my back as he murmured words of comfort while I retched, but it didn’t matter. All I could think about was that kid and how he was probably in the middle of a game when chaos erupted. Or maybe he’d just scored the winning shot, and his parents took him out to celebrate at his favorite ice cream joint. He was an innocent soul tainted by the Devil’s evil.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked after I’d finished heaving.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and nodded. “Fine,” I rasped, pushing to my feet and stepping away from him.

“Diana…”

“Don’t. Just, give me a minute.”

I put my hands on my hips and closed my eyes, pulling in a series of breaths until I had a grip on my emotions. It wasn’t like I’d never encountered an infected kid in this wasteland, but it never got easier, and the result was always the same: me, hunched over, emptying the contents of my stomach.

When I opened my eyes again, Cas was staring down at his blade, running his hands along the handle and turning it in different directions. “This blade has never failed me,” he said quietly. “It has always managed to do what I will it to and keep me safe, but that safety comes with a price. You see, the blade gets heavier with each life I take.”

“That boy deserved better.”

“Yes.” Cas stared at me hard. “And I carry that failure, not you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you saying I blame myself for him getting infected?”

“You were a nurse before all this. Are you saying you’ve never felt any guilt after failing to save someone?”

Damn him for being so insightful.

“You know, I’m starting to get why you annoy Dean so much.”

The corner of his mouth curled up, and I found myself mirroring his smile. “It’s a gift.”

I huffed a laugh and scooped up my machete.

As we continued heading to the cabin, my brow furrowed a bit. “Hey, where’d you get that knife of yours? I’ve never seen anything like it. And that throw! Dude. You’ve got some serious skills.”

“Yes, well, we all have our pasts, don’t we?”

We didn’t speak again after that.  
_____________

Three sharp raps landed on the cabin door as a voice called out, “Domino’s!”

Cas rolled his eyes with a laugh while I got up to open the door. Dean was standing on the other side grinning ear to ear, a doe on his shoulders. “Oh darn,” I said flatly. “It seems I have no money. Whatever will I do?”

His eyes lit up and he set the deer and his bow down on the edge of the porch before stepping forward and grasping my hips. He leaned in until we were only inches apart before saying, “I’m sure we can work something out, miss.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that!” Cas called. He appeared behind me and gestured at the deer. “How many arrows did you lose before finally hitting this animal?”

“Screw you, man. I always hit my mark.”

“Eventually.”

I winced. “Ooh. He burned you there.”

“Hey!” Dean backed up and pointed a finger between us. “What? I’m gone for a few hours, and suddenly you’re taking his side?”

“Didn’t you know?” Cas asked innocently. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. “We’re besties now.”

“I hate you both,” Dean grumbled.

I laughed and reached out to him. “Aw, honey, don’t be like that.”

“No, no.” He waved us off and bent to pick up the deer. “You two enjoy each other’s company. I’ll just be out here slaughtering and then cooking the deer I killed.” He stepped off the porch and turned back wearing a haughty expression. “By the way, you two? You don’t get any.”

Cas crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, staring thoughtfully at his actual best friend. “I think we made him angry.”

Still grinning, I nudged Cas’s shoulder playfully and hopped off the porch. “Dean! Wait up!”  
_____________

The three of us continued teasing each other throughout supper and swapping stories until late into the night. When it was over, the guys both pitched in to help clean up, and then we settled in the living room. Cas was sprawled out on a bedroll by the heater, a tattered paperback book propped up against one of the coffee table legs and his chin resting on his forearms as he read, while Dean and I spoke quietly on the couch. Everything was peaceful, comfortable, wrapped in a warm glow that vaguely reminded me of home. I didn’t realize how incomplete my life was until they came into it, but now that they were there, I couldn’t see a future without them in it. I felt lighter somehow, accepted into a part of something bigger.

I blinked slowly and felt Dean’s arms tighten around me as he placed a kiss on the top of my head. I didn’t remember curling up against him or a lull in conversation, but I guess exhaustion had won out.

“Time for bed,” Dean murmured.

“Nuh-uh.” I burrowed my face in his shirt and sighed. “I’m comfy.”

He sat up straighter, stretching his arms over his head and forcing me to move off him as his body shifted. I felt a large hand ruffle my hair as I rubbed at my eyes, and I glared at my offender earning me a low chuckle in return. 

“Ass,” I muttered.

Dean threw his head back and laughed heartily at that, and I couldn’t help but giggle in return. It was nice to see him so relaxed.

“Stop flirting and go to bed,” Cas growled from the floor.

“What’s the matter, Cas?” Dean asked. “Worried I’m gonna steal your new bestie back?”

Cas pushed himself up onto his forearms to stare at us over the edge of the coffee table. “No, I’m worried about having a front row seat to the cheesy porno that comes with it.”

Images of Dean naked on the couch flashed through my mind. I could just see his bare chest under my splayed hands as I rode him, could feel the surge of his hips between my thighs and hear the breathy gasps he’d emit like I heard the yawn he was currently letting loose beside me. I swallowed, warmth spreading from my chest clear up to my ears. I was definitely awake after that. “Going!” I choked out while rushing to the bathroom. “We’re going!”

I rushed through my nightly routine and ended up working myself up even more than I was when I leapt off the couch. I wasn’t sure what he expected of me, if he thought we’d get back to the same activities as the night before or if he’d just brush that off as a one-time deal or what, but I knew how I felt. I wanted more of him, always, and damn if that didn’t scare me shitless. 

“What’s got you so keyed up?” Dean asked as I busied myself in the bedroom—apparently my mind had decided that it was a great time to start tidying up. I knew I owned more than most people those days, and even though it still didn’t amount to much, the disruption of my normal routine made for random items tossed in various parts of the room.

I stopped, my arm half-outstretched towards a flannel in the corner, and glanced up at him. “Nothing,” I said and scooped the article of clothing off the floor. I straightened and plastered a smile on my face. “I’m fine.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and furrowed his brow. “Liar. You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” I breathed, staring down at where I was wringing the flannel in my hands.

“Hey, don’t apologize. I just wish you’d tell me what’s up instead of buzzing around here like some crazed gnat.”

I crossed the floor and plopped down on the bed with one leg dangling off the side and the other folded beneath me. Huffing a laugh, I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Tell me about it.” Dean reached over and gently took my hand. “You’re usually more confident than this. Kinda makes it hard to believe you’re really okay.” He hesitated and then, “Is it because of what Cas said?”

“I—” I pressed my lips into a line and nodded.

“You know I don’t expect you to do anything you don’t want to, right? I mean, I get it if you regret last night.” My eyes flew up to his. “I don’t,” he said quickly, “but you said to take it slow, and then...Well, you see how that turned out.”

“I don’t regret last night either, I just didn’t know what you wanted, you know, tonight,” I mumbled, “and, well, going forward from, uh, here.” Wow that sounded lame.

“Right now I wanna dance.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, but he was already up and tugging me along with him. 

Dean led me to the middle of the bedroom floor and pulled me in, splaying one hand on the small of my back and tucking our joined hands between our chests. He grinned boyishly down at me and began doing a slow-paced sway/two-step while humming under his breath.

I went along with it—mostly because the move had caught me off guard but also because it was so freaking sweet—while trying to work out what song he was humming. Finally, it came to me. “Bryan Adams?”

“I’m a man of simple tastes,” he said and twirled me around. “What’d you expect? Britney Spears?”

I laughed and went with the move, coming to settle with my back to his chest while his arms wrapped around my middle and his chin rested on my shoulder. “I was scared,” I told him, “but not for the reasons you think.”

He paused, his voice stuttering slightly before resuming the song in a lower tone.

“I was scared because last night I realized something, and it freaked me out, but now…”

“Now what?” Dean asked gently.

I inhaled deeply. “I’m coming with you.”

Dean froze, his limbs locking up around me. “What?”

I broke out in a cold sweat as my stomach knotted, suddenly unsure of whether or not he still wanted me. “I—I said I’m coming with you. There’s nothing left for me here, and even if there was…I wouldn’t want it without you.”

He spun me around by my shoulders, and I was met by a breathtaking smile. “Seriously?” he asked.

I nodded, my conviction growing. “Yeah.”

“Awesome,” he whispered, ducking his head to capture my mouth in a kiss.

It was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

“Hey,” Dean mumbled when I rolled out of bed the next morning. “Where’re you going?”

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple before carding my fingers through his hair. The guy’s bedhead was irresistible. “Just gotta check on that meat. I’ll be right back.”

I went to pull away, but Dean caught my hand and rolled away from me while hugging it to his chest. “Stay.”

“Oh, for the love of…” I laughed and tried to pull away but found it nearly impossible, and the man was feigning sleep while trying not to smirk. “Dean,” I said, tugging pointedly. Nothing. “Deeeeeaannn,” I groaned.

“Dean can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message at the beep. Beeeep.”

I was still laughing when inspiration struck. Grinning wickedly, I gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know, with the world in ruin, I bet you probably haven’t had a checkup in years.” I let my free hand wander along his bare side, skirting closer and closer to his underwear with every pass. “Now, I know there are certain areas that a man of your age should consider getting checked—” Dean froze, and I dipped my fingertips into his waistband. “—and I just so happen to have some clinical experience with—”

“Alright!” he huffed, shoving my hand away. “Get away from me, woman! I’ve been known to try some kinky stuff, but nobody, and I mean nobody is getting back there. Exit. ONLY.”

He watched me get dressed through narrow eyes, and I winked at him as I left the room.

Looking back, I should have stayed.  
_____________

The smoker would have been a weekend project before everything fell apart, but it was lucky I found how-to instructions in a DIY magazine I’d picked up in one of the houses I raided for supplies back when I first found the cabin—a girl’s gotta do her research; it’s not like I knew how to run a freaking homestead from the get go—so I wasn’t about to complain about how long it took to gather the materials. It wasn’t huge, but the repurposed fifty-five-gallon drum got the job done, and what I couldn’t fit in there was usually cooked immediately and eaten as quickly as possible. There’d been some interesting trials the first few years, things I’d read about and decided to take a stab at. Some went great! Others…well, let’s just say canning your own meat doesn’t always turn out the way you’d hope, and toilet paper runs out way too fast.

The sun was just coming up when I walked outside. A thick blanket of fog clung to the earth, and there was a faint chill in the air. Wrapping my coat tighter around me, I stepped off the porch. 

Jaws snapped at the air behind me, and I automatically ducked as a large body slid into the wall of the cabin. I spun around, my machete gripped tightly in my hand and eyes wildly scanning the area for movement, but there was nothing there. Still, I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and waited for what came next. 

It didn’t take long.

Heavy footsteps thundered across the porch, the wood protesting violently with the weight, and the sound cut off milliseconds before I was bulldozed to the ground. I threw my hands up instinctively as I fell, and it was a good thing because my forearms connected with thick muscle as rancid breath fanned across my face. I gagged and struggled against the invisible force pinning me to the ground, my pulse thundering in my ears. I didn’t have my machete anymore, and I didn’t know what happened to it, but I couldn’t bring myself to wonder either because there was no time. I had to get this thing off me, had to warn the others, had to—

Flesh tore from my left thigh, and I screamed.

Agony ripped through me as my body temperature spiked, and for half a second my arms went slack with the pain and the thing on top of me came dangerously close to closing its jaws around my neck, but I rolled just in time, and its teeth landed in my shoulder instead. The smell of copper filled the air, and my veins boiled. I was on fire. I had to be. There was no other explanation for why—

“NO!”

Dean? Shit. He was going to get killed! I had to protect him, but I was on fire, and blood was in my eyes, and the beast was still there, and—

And then it wasn’t. 

And then there was a yelp.

And then I was panting. 

And then I was crawling.

I only had eyes for the front steps that led to my porch, and I realized I wasn’t crawling so much as dragging myself across the wet grass, but it was slow going, my progress negligible, and where was Dean? He’d been out here, too, hadn’t he? Was he alive? Was he hurt like me? What was that thing, and why had it attacked, and door, gotta get to the door, and safety, and warm, and Dean, and hurts, God it hurts, and, and, and—

“Di? Di, can you hear me?”

Suddenly I was looking at the sky instead of the grass, and then Dean came into my field of vision, his face white and pinched with worry. Oh good; he was alive. That was…yeah good. Okay. I blinked sluggishly and tried to smile, but if he noticed he didn’t say anything. I coughed, and spots crowded my vision, everything blacking out for a second.

“Oh God. Cas! Cas, help me get her inside.”

“How bad is it?”

Strong arms enveloped me, and I was rocking back and forth, and that sound. It was grating on me and making it hard to hear.

“I don’t, I don’t know. I saw it get her shoulder, but her leg, man. It’s bad. It’s so freaking bad. I can’t tell if it hit an artery or what. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Everything shifted again as I was laid out on a hard surface, and I grit my teeth around a groan. Lightning shot through my leg, and I tried to throw a (pathetic) punch, but someone caught my hand and held it tight while the storm continued.

“That should stave off the blood flow for now. Roll her onto her stomach so we can get a look at her back.”

A shock of cold air rushed across my skin, and then there was prodding, and there was that sound again, louder, and God, I wished someone would shut it the hell up!

“Get some holy water to wash these out!”

“We don’t have any.”

“You were an angel, dammit! MAKE SOME!”

“There’s no time!” A pause. “I’ve got some holy oil left, not much, but it might be enough.”

“Cas—no. We can’t. I—I can’t.”

“It was a hellhound, Dean! There’s no telling what kind of infection could come from that thing! If you won’t do it, I will.”

“I—son of a bitch. Fine! Fine. Get the oil and hold her down for me.”

If I thought I was on fire before, it had nothing on how I felt at that moment. My body went rigid as a board and my hands were clenched into fists on either side of my head as I screamed into the surface below me. I was dying. I wouldn’t make it. I—  
_____________

Darkness.

I was staring off into an abyss, the only light coming from swirling black and white images of…something. Concrete sculptures maybe? I caught an angel with her head bowed and hands folded in prayer, a man chained to a throne, and a wrought iron gate hanging off its hinges and creaking in the breeze.  
_____________

I woke sometime later.

I was propped up by a pillow—Dean’s, from the smell of it—my head turned to the side and one leg propped up. Everything from my hairline to my toes hurt, but it was less fire and more of a dull ache. I tried to move, but a calloused hand landed on the side of my face, and I stopped.

“S’not a good idea, Di.”

Dragging my eyelids open, I came face to face with Dean Winchester and smiled. “Hey.”

Deep lines were etched into the space between his brows, and his jaw ticked. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

I blinked slowly. “Like I got hit by a Mac truck.”

His face darkened. “I’m so sorry, Di. I should have been with you instead of asleep in here. I—”

“Save it, Winchester.” I sighed and watched him grab a glass of water from the bedside table. He held it to my lips and let it slowly trickle into my mouth. I drank heartily and chased the cup as he pulled away, but the skin on my left shoulder stung horrifically, and I hissed. “Gah,” I moaned, pressing my face into the pillow and huffing a breath. “What is that?”

“Hellhound. It—you got bit on the shoulder, and it sliced up your thigh pretty good, too. We didn’t have a way to stop the bleeding except, except for—”

“Cauterization,” I mumbled. “I wish I could say I’d forgotten that part.”

Dean sat forward, burying his hands in his hair. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m sorry.”

My heart ached for him.

“Hey,” I whispered. “This isn’t your fault, hon. You couldn’t have known it was out there, and—”

His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and my breath stuttered as I took in his tears. He looked away, wiping a hand down his face and sniffling. “I’m the one that burned you. Those scars are because of me. I—I hurt you, Di, and I can’t, I can’t…”

“Dean.” I waited as he reluctantly met my gaze. Mustering all the strength I could, I stared hard at him and said, “You saved my life. Thank you.”

A sigh punched out of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re crazier than I am.”

“Eh, sue me.”

The last thing I remembered was Dean brushing his lips across my forehead.  
_____________

“C’mon, Di. You’ve gotta drink something.”

Distantly, I knew Dean was right. They had no other way of getting fluids in me, and the burns would quickly dehydrate me if I wasn’t careful, but I was tired, so very tired, and my blood had turned to sludge in my veins.

“Jus’ wanna sleep,” I murmured. “Sleep first, then drink.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said. “Work with me here, kiddo.”

I glared at him. “I am so not a kid, and you implying I am has a ton of weird implications.”

“Ew, gross. Not like that.”

I hmphed and closed my eyes again, but he was still there, holding the edge of the glass to my lips and letting just a little water touch my skin.

It felt good.

There was a hand brushing the hair out of my face as I drank. “Good job, Di. Good job.”  
_____________

“Are you sure about this, man?” Dean sounded skeptical, and I didn’t blame him. I was kind of interested to see how it’d work out myself.

“Of course. Honey is good for healing wounds and inhibiting bacteria growth.”

“I don’t know…”

“Can you two shut up and just do it already?” I snapped. I’d been without a shirt for the two days since they’d cauterized my wounds—most of it was spent unconscious in bed, only getting up when Dean helped me back and forth to the bathroom, which was fine. In fact, I hadn’t even seen Cas before now, but it was time to change the dressings, and Dean had let his nerves—and guilt—get the best of him and resorted to seeking out his friend to do the job instead, so that meant I was exposed to him, too. Sure, they kept me as covered as possible, but I was hyper-aware of my nudity beneath the sheet and seriously self-conscious.

Fingers lightly flitted around the edges of the burn on my shoulder, and I heard Cas sigh. “My apologies.”

“It’s fine,” I grumbled into the pillow.

“Are you ready?”

Gripping the pillow tightly, I shifted, the thin sheet slipping down to my lower back as I did, and nodded. “Go for it.”

It stung. It stung really, really, really, super bad, and I was biting my bottom lip so hard I tasted blood, but I knew it needed to be done, so I took the pain. Cas, bless him, worked quickly, applying a thin layer of honey and then putting a fresh bandage in place. 

“That should do it,” Cas muttered, smoothing the edges into place. The mattress creaked, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder. He was frowning as he wet another bandage in a pan of water. “Let’s roll you over and look at your thigh.”

Dean stepped up then, pulling the sheet back up to my shoulders and tucking it around me. “Bear with me, Di,” he said before rolling me onto my back and pulling me up towards the pillows. He looked at me, silently asking if I was okay, and I nodded. He swallowed before adjusting the sheet again, ducked his head, and uncovered my thigh.

Cas retook his position on the edge of the bed and carefully peeled away the old bandage. I winced some as he worked, but my expression slipped into a full-on grimace when I finally got a look at the wound.

“Shit,” I whispered.

A dark bruise left over from the tourniquet ringed the top of my leg and four long burns ran along the length of my thigh, the longest starting just below my hip and reaching nearly to my knee. The dark red color and fact that they hurt at all told me they were only second-degree burns, and for that I was thankful. At least I’d heal quickly. Still, the scarring wouldn’t be pretty, and I didn’t want to think about my shoulder—Dean told me it was the worst as I’d lost a chunk of tissue when the hellhound bit me. 

I could feel both men’s eyes on me, no doubt waiting and trying to gauge my reaction before speaking, so I steeled myself before glancing at them. “C’mon, Cas,” I said. “It doesn’t need to be exposed longer than necessary.”

He and Dean exchanged a look before Cas leaned forward and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels as though I've been wrestling with this chapter for ages, but I've finally got it worked out how I want it. Phew!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

“Breathe, Diana.”

I inhaled slowly through my nose before releasing it in a frustrated puff of hot air. “This isn’t working.”

Cas, eyes still closed, smirked. “You’re trying too hard. Relax.”

“I am relaxing dammit!” I snapped. His brows furrowed slightly, and I bit my lip as the shame from my outburst settled in. “Sorry. It’s just, how can you be so calm all the time?”

“I don’t compartmentalize my feelings. When I’m trying to meditate, I feel my emotions before releasing them into the universe. You, on the other hand, seem to be trying to clear your mind completely which is next to impossible in your state.”

“Bastard,” I grumbled. He wasn’t wrong, though. It’d been a few weeks since the hellhound attack, and I’d taken to meditating in earnest to help myself cope mentally, but I had just finished a rigorous self-imposed physical therapy session, so my shoulder and leg were especially achy and blocking me from my usual zen state.

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“Meditating is my break.”

A hand squeezed my uninjured shoulder, and I looked up to see Dean smiling softly down at me. “Not when it stresses you out, it’s not,” he said. “C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”

He helped me up and handed me my jacket, so I slipped it on while he got into his own and ducked into the bedroom.

Dean had been by my side constantly since I was attacked, treating me like I was about to fall apart in his hands, and I kept having to stop and remind him that I’d be okay eventually. He never really accepted it though. He shouldn’t have let me get out of bed that morning. He should’ve gotten up with me. He should’ve gotten up before me to take care of the meat and let me sleep in. I’d heard every line in the book at that point, every way Dean could spin the story so that it was his fault I got hurt, but no amount of arguing or reassurances would change his mind, and I hated that. It wasn’t his fault that thing was sent after him, and it wasn’t his fault that I crossed its path first, but try telling him that.

He emerged with a quilt in his arms and a black beanie on his head and herded me out the door. It was dark out and cold—true winter had started to settle in, so that combined with my injuries had kept me inside more often than not—but he wrapped the blanket around my shoulders and huddled with me on the porch steps. I nestled gratefully into his warmth for several long minutes before I spoke.

“I’ve missed this,” I said, staring down at our intertwined hands. 

“Yeah?” Dean pressed a kiss to my temple and rested his forehead there.

“Mm-hmm. I was getting actual cabin fever in there.”

He huffed a laugh against my cheek. “Well, I’m glad I was able to get you out here.”

“Me, too.” I turned and cupped his face in my hand, rubbing my thumb gently over his cheekbone. His beard was thicker now, his eyes a little more tired than they’d been before I was attacked, and his skin paler. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into my touch, sighing softly. “You need to rest,” I whispered.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Liar. You’re exhausted, Dean.” I narrowed my eyes at him, really studying his features. “What’s on your mind?”

He looked down and began playing with the string on my sweats. “It’s getting colder. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be stuck here all winter, and I’m sure everybody back home has been wondering about us. We’re never gone this long.”

“Okay.” My mind was already running through a list of things we’d have to do before we left. We couldn’t take everything with us, but we could clean out the cabin and secure it enough that it’d be good to use if we or someone else ever needed it in the future. “We should probably get some rest then. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Dean brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned in close, his breath fanning across my face. “In a minute. I want to enjoy this a little longer.”

How could I argue with that?  
_____________

The next couple of days flew by. We started on the barn first, clearing out the stalls and securing any holes around the base of the walls so nothing could slip through. I swept the hall and straightened the tack room, organized the tools and few pieces of equipment I owned.

The cabin was next, but that process wasn’t as simple. I had to decide what we needed to take with us, what could stay, and what had to be thrown out. Dean seemed less than enthusiastic about it all, every step towards leaving sluggish and drawn out, not that I blamed him. My cabin had become something of a home to him since he arrived. Neither of us really wanted to leave it for the harsh journey we knew awaited us, but we needed to. There were people depending on him, to keep them alive, and he wouldn’t turn his back on them.

Cas had grown unusually quiet as well. His usual banter with Dean was at an all-time low, replaced by short answers and the occasional huff in response to the other man’s attempts at conversation. I couldn’t figure out what had his panties in a twist. At first, I thought maybe he was upset I was coming with them, but he’d been nothing but warm towards me and denied it when I asked him outright. Maybe they’d had a spat in private or something. Whatever it was, neither of the men was saying anything. In the end, I decided it was none of my business and tasked myself with keeping up morale. So, I told jokes, kept conversations light, and wore a smile even when I didn’t feel like it.  
_____________

“What are you doing?”

I threw a smile over my shoulder. Dean was leaning against the doorframe, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. “Curing cancer,” I deadpanned. At his raised eyebrow, I sighed. “Packing.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I turned back to the bag in front of me, stuffing another flannel into it. “We’re leaving the day after tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah…” Clearing his throat, he said, “You’re not coming.”

I stopped, my blood running cold as a rock settled in the pit of my stomach. Dropping the shirt, I straightened and crossed my arms while scanning his face. I wanted him to laugh and say he was joking, but the words never came. “But you said—”

“And now I’m saying no.”

I stepped forward and jabbed a finger at his chest, confusion swirling with the hurt and anger inside me. “You begged me to come with you, remember? You said I wasn’t safe on my own!”

Dean swallowed but otherwise kept his face blank, a total opposite of the man I’d come to know. I’d never seen him so cold. His green eyes were always so warm when they looked at me, but now…now they were just empty. “Yeah, well, that was before Lucifer put out a hit on me.”

I put a hand on my forehead and backed away several feet, throwing my walls back into place. “I don’t believe this,” I scoffed. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Look, things changed, okay? Right now the safest place for you is as far away from me as you can get.”

“You’re such an ass! I can’t believe you’re doing this! I trusted you!”

He stepped towards me, his arms outstretched. “Di—”

“Don’t!” I blinked back tears and held up a shaking finger. “You don’t get to touch me anymore,” I spit.

Dean flinched back like he’d been slapped, and hurt flickered across his face, cracking the mask for just an instant before it was back. “I’m just trying to—”

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t care.” I closed my eyes and dragged in a breath to get a handle on my emotions before staring him down just as I did the morning I found him tangled up in my fence, back when I thought he was a threat, back when we were nothing more than strangers, when things were clean cut and simple. “Do what you have to do, but then I want you gone.”

“Di, please…”

“Leave me alone, Dean. Just…leave me alone.”  
_____________

I struggled against the stubborn plants, pulling, tugging, straining to get them up at the roots despite my shoulder’s protestations. The area had to be cleared, the remnants of this year’s garden removed and composted for next year’s fertilizer. I could’ve been doing it a few weeks ago, but noooo. I had to go and trust a stranger. The tomato plant jerked free, and I tossed it into the wheelbarrow with a mirthless laugh.

God, I was an idiot.

I’d spent ten years—a whole freaking decade—building my walls. Then this, this guy shows up and he’s all hurt and handsome and caring and helpful and soft, and I let myself think that I could start to let someone in, could trust again—hell I even let myself fall for the guy—and then BOOM!

No more Chinese laundry.

Bullshit, that’s what it was.

Cas and Dean had been outside all morning as well, and I’d been doing a good job of avoiding them until my curiosity got the better of me. So, I walked over to where Cas was crouched in some brush at the edge of the woods doing…something. It wasn’t until I got right up on him that I saw what.

“What’s that?”

Cas glanced at me over his shoulder before tapping the butt of his knife against the tree. “These sigils should cloak your location from those with evil intentions. Only the pure can look past it.”

“Like a forcefield?”

“In a way, though it’s more closely related to a cloaking spell.”

I furrowed my brow and stepped closer to get a better look. “Will it work?”

“In theory.” He shrugged. “Our home hasn’t been located yet, so it either works or we’re extremely lucky, and luck has never been on our side, so.”

“Pretty smart carving them into the trees.”

“It was Dean’s idea. He wanted to make sure they’d last.” Cas shifted in his crouch and sighed, blue eyes flickering up at me and then away. “You two should make up before we go. Leaving things as they currently are is a mistake.”

I leaned my shoulder against the tree and watched him complete the sigil. “Cas…I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really, but Dean and I…I don’t think there’s anything left to fix. I trusted him, and he just lied to my face.”

“In all fairness, he didn’t know he was being tracked when he suggested you join us,” Cas pointed out, gesturing with the tip of his knife as he did. “Knowing Dean, I’m sure that affected his decision.”

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “So what? That doesn’t change anything. Besides, how likely is it that someone won’t track him to this area after he’s gone? Then what’ll I do? Infected I can take care of, but how can I fight off actual monsters own my own?”

“That’s what these are for,” he said, waving at the sigil. “They’ll keep you safe.”

“Yeah, okay,” I snorted, rolling my eyes.

“You lack faith.”

“I don’t—” Cas raised an eyebrow at me, and I stopped. “Fine,” I huffed. “Maybe I don’t have faith, but give me one good example of someone who does these days.”

He looked past me towards the other side of the clearing, his eyes squinting in the midday sun and tiny lines fanning out at the corners. He looked a lot like Dean in that moment, and it hurt more than I was expecting. Cas swallowed before speaking so softly it was almost a whisper. “I do.” He put the final touches on the sigil before striding over to the next tree he’d mark.

It was a funny looking thing, the finished product. Sitting at the base of the tree, low enough to be hidden by the grass in front of it, a horizontal line connected the top of two inverted parentheses, and an arch hovered mere inches above those. A crosshairs with arrows at each point sat directly to the left, and below and to the right of the whole thing was a smaller character not unlike a cursive capital F. It almost reminded me of a signature, and I made a mental note to ask Cas later about each piece’s significance. Most people would look right by the sigil for a few years, and by the time the tree had grown enough that it reached eye level, the bark would have overtaken the carving and added another layer of camouflage.

My hand twitched with the urge to reach out and flatten my palm against the sigil, so I moved into a squat but hesitated at the last second. Cas had said he had faith, but in what? The sigils? God? Fate? I bit my lower lip and turned to find what he’d been staring at when he said it, hoping whatever his eyes had landed on would help me figure out what he’d meant.

Dean was sitting directly across the clearing from me facing a tree, his knees up and arms draped across them as he flipped a knife in his right hand. He stopped suddenly, his back going rigid, and stood. I swallowed and watched him turn until his body was half facing me. He clenched the knife and scanned the trees, but as soon as his eyes fell on me it was like the fight just left him. His right hand fell, and it looked like he was going to call out, but I didn’t give him the chance. 

I stood and made a beeline for the cabin.  
_____________

Early the next morning, I was standing on the porch wrapped in a quilt as Cas and Dean got their packs strapped on. They moved perfectly in sync, no doubt repeating a dance they’d long since memorized, checking and rechecking to make sure everything was in place, their weapons within reach, water jugs filled and secured, etc.

“Do you remember the banishing sigil I taught you?” Cas asked, adjusting his pack one last time.

“Yeah,” I rasped. Dammit. I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the wave of emotions coiling in my chest. I knew them leaving would be hard, but even if Dean was a lying dick, I’d be lying to myself if I said I wouldn’t miss him. I knew I would because I started the moment he said I couldn’t come. Stretching up onto my tiptoes, I pulled Cas into a hug. “Take care of yourself,” I whispered, “and thanks, for everything.”

Cas offered me a warm smile as we parted, the corner of his mouth curving upwards and lighting his whole face. “Goodbye, Diana.”

It was the last human contact I’d get for…well, I didn’t want to think about that, so I tried to smile back, but at the last second my face—and my heart—broke, and I sobbed instead. Dropping my face into my hand, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, but I—I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry.”

A different set of arms enveloped me then, arms more familiar than I’d have liked, and it only made me cry harder. Dean didn’t say anything, just squeezed me until I’d calmed down and continued to hold on until my breathing evened out. What shocked me was that I didn’t fight it, didn’t try to push him away, didn’t kick or scream. The raging ocean inside me didn’t frost over because it couldn’t. I couldn’t.

I was too tired.

“I hate you,” I muttered after a while, sniffing to clear my nose of all the snot that’d built up and pressing my face harder against his chest.

Dean sighed and rested his cheek on my head. “No, you don’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Reluctantly, I forced myself to look up at Dean’s face. I was met with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin, furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. Another tear slipped down my cheek, and my hands fisted in his jacket against my will when he reached up to wipe it away with his thumb.

You know, you always hear in books and movies about moments when the world stops turning and time comes to a screeching halt, how one person can erase everyone and everything around you, but I’d never truly experienced the feeling before that second. My breath stuttered as our eyes locked, tension a thick wall between us that was shrinking with every passing second.

Dean licked his lips, and the illusion shattered.

“Di…”

I jerked back, turning away and wiping my face with a corner of the quilt. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Diana, wait!”

I shut the door behind me and stumbled to the couch, curling up and staying there until the light of dawn brightened and faded again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. So, um, should I apologize here, or...?
> 
> Well, the good news is, I HAVE A PLAN! Don't worry, stay with me, because we haven't seen the last of Dean or Cas. This story is far from over, folks!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments? Constructive criticism? Let me know!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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